


you're just trying to do your best for a kid who's lost control

by tempestaurora



Series: hydra's not a home [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abduction, F/M, Gen, Hydra, Irondad Spiderson - Freeform, Kidnapping, May and Ben arent in this either bc theyre not relevant to plot, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter says Fuck, Teen rating for language, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, a fic thats actually turning out ten times better than anyone thought it would, brief mention to past suicidal thoughts, ironfam, originally i said pepper wasnt in this enough but then i realised i could change that, so now peppers in it a bunch, youre welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15785469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: Peter Stark was a prodigy child, following in his father's footsteps. First circuit board at four, engine at six, the future of Stark Industries. Then, the worst thing imaginable happens.PETER STARK MISSINGTen years later, a new HYDRA experiment shows up on the scene; in black spandex, with the voice of a kid and abilities to rival Captain America, the Black Spider tugs at Tony's heartstrings in a way he can't fathom.





	1. Peter Stark Missing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullMoonFlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullMoonFlight/gifts).



> i'm on a dear evan hansen kick so the title is from "to break in a glove", a song about fathers, sons and, obscurely, baseball. this fic is about fathers, sons and definitely not baseball.
> 
> this is my second irondad spiderson fic (third mcu) and i actually really like how its going. ive written the first three chapters and i think itll have five or six total. by the way, if you're not noticing the pattern in my fics here, i'll tell you: i love peter being tony's bio child and i will write all the fics necessary to make you all love it too.
> 
> also, i dedicate this fic to helga and her unwavering support. when i'm famous one day and acting like hot shit, she's the one little guy i won't forget.
> 
> anyway, enjoy. or don't, i can't make you.

At four thirty-seven AM on the eleventh of August, Peter Benjamin Stark was born. The first thing he ever saw was his father’s face. Peter cried. Tony smiled. It was the start of something.

 

-

 

The press had a field day. They’d been waiting for the child of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts for months. Peter was three weeks late. They were all growing agitated. Still, he was worth the wait; a small, smiling baby with his father’s eyes and mother’s laugh. He was the future, that’s what the papers said. He was the future of Stark Industries, the future of the world. Being the son of the Western world’s foremost weapons designer meant it was destined.

To Peter, though, small and fascinated by colours and sounds, by everything he saw and couldn’t understand, Tony Stark wasn’t the merchant of death. Tony Stark was Daddy and Daddy would never hurt him.

Tony Stark, decidedly, would never hurt Peter.

The world crowded Peter for a long time; watched in awe as he was raised, one step at a time, walking three months quicker than the doctors said he would, talking his meaningless chatter far before expected, too. The press called him a prodigy child, and so did his parents when they tucked him into bed at night.

“Our prodigy baby,” Pepper whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Tony Stark had been a prodigy once – still was, by all accounts. The memories itched at the back of his head; the cameras, the lights, the announcements made for all of his most minor accomplishments and his face on the cover of magazines he wasn’t even old enough to read. He wanted better for Peter. He was sure he could manage it.

At four, Peter followed in his father’s footsteps and built his first circuit board.

At six, Peter was working on his first engine, sitting on the floor of the lab next to his father’s guiding hands, when things went wrong.

Tony’s home lab in California no longer held any weaponry. This was for the best; that he did his work elsewhere. It was for the best, because when the building shook, when the masked men in black marched down the stairs and into his lab, the whole cliffside could’ve gone up.

But it didn’t. Instead, Tony protected his son the best he could, but unconsciousness took him without warning, without asking. When he awoke, Peter was gone, and so was the warmth he used to feel in his chest.

 

**PETER STARK MISSING**

They searched. By God, they searched.

But it was a strategic attack; they were still unravelling from his son’s disappearance when the Afghanistan weapons demo approached. Obi would look after the company in his absence and Pepper would lead the search for Peter. He didn’t want to go. _He didn’t want to go_.

“It’s what’s best,” Obi said, placating. “Maybe you need some time away.”

He went. He half-assed the sell but sold the Jericho anyway. It had only been a month since Peter’s disappearance, only a month since he’d vomited out his insides until bile was all that was left and his organs were threatening to claw up his throat and into the toilet bowl.

His car was attacked on the drive back to the plane.

 

**TONY STARK MISSING**

_What a pair, we are._

Tony didn’t know this, but Pepper was put in protective custody. It was an assault on the Stark family, the press guessed. Maybe they were pissed about the weapon manufacturing, or maybe they just wanted to see the world burn.

Tony didn’t know this, but Pepper broke. Snapped in two then shattered. Where she’d held in her vomit and blood-stained insides to remain strong in Peter’s absence, she couldn’t hold it back anymore when Tony was gone, too. Her son and her husband in the span of a month. Someone was trying to destroy her heart, and Pepper was considering letting them.

Tony didn’t know this, either, but Pepper always got back up when she’d finished puking her soul into the toilet. She always got back up, showered and climbed into her most wrinkle-free outfits to go on live television, on the news, radio, the streets, and beg for her family to come home.

Pepper was not born a Stark, but she was the strongest of them all.

 

-

 

When Tony came home, Iron Man came with him. A suit of armour that made him feel braver, stronger, more able than ever before. Pepper hated it and loved it.

She hated that he was willing to put himself in danger again, as if she hadn’t practically died the first time.

She hated that the suit made him feel invincible, forgetting that he was anything but.

Most of all though, she hated that he didn’t make her one too. Hated that she couldn’t climb into a suit of armour every day and fight the world until it coughed her son back up and into her arms. How was she supposed to fight armed gunmen with heels and a suit?

Even with Iron Man, though, Peter still didn’t come home.

 

-

 

Don’t believe what the reporters say, Tony and Pepper Stark never _once_ stopped looking for their son.

 

-

 

The world, too, never forgot about him. Slowly, though, Peter’s name only reappeared on his birthday, a reminder of every year they missed him grow up. Tony and Pepper Stark didn’t have another child, after Peter. They built Stark Industries back up without Obadiah and without weapons, they built up the Avengers Initiative, and they focused their efforts on making the world a better place.

Making it the kind of world Peter deserved to see.

 

-

 

Tony didn’t necessarily _like_ Sargent Barnes, after everything that went down in Siberia, but he had a grudging respect for the man for sticking by Cap and with the Avengers, even after everything fell apart.

The Accords were in repair, as was the relationship between the so-called Teams Iron Man and Captain America, and it had been a few years since they made their messes. A few years that lead up to and past the ten-year anniversary of Peter’s abduction. He’d be sixteen. (Tony and Pepper were not seen by anyone on the day itself, nor the days surrounding. When FRIDAY was asked, however, she always confirmed that they were okay, just mourning, and were not to be disturbed.)

The day passed and everything slipped back into place. There were still threats out there – aliens and rifts in time and space that liked to piss of Earth and their mightiest heroes. Sometimes the problems came in the form of mad scientists, sentient AI and rich assholes. Sometimes, it was worse.

Sometimes, it was HYDRA.

 

-

 

“On your left!” Cap yelled to Falcon, who swerved right as the words were uttered and narrowly missed being hit by a surface to air missile. It exploded far above his head and Iron Man swooped past, shooting his repulsors towards the missile launcher.

Tony knew that taking down HYDRA bases always gave Cap a sick sense of satisfaction. It didn’t matter how many bodies ended up littered on the ground; they needed to go.

They’d heard about this one hiding in the middle of Queens, New York, and had meant to go in quiet and covert. Instead, they were spotted and the whole block had been evacuated as the Avengers involved themselves in an all-out battle.

The focus was on a strip club that showed promiscuous dancing on the ground floor, and tortured people on the first. Screaming, half naked women filled the street as they tried to escape the gunfire. It was Cap who led them away, the Winter Soldier who shot down the first row of gunmen and Iron Man who stormed straight through the windows into the top floor, not spotting the surface to air launchers that were being uncovered on the roof.

Still, the base was going down, being dismantled piece by piece. Black Widow was stood by a bank of computers, downloading information as Hawkeye shot the incoming targets and protected her body with his own. The Winter Soldier and Captain America took down the bulk of the gunmen otherwise, securing exits and keeping civilians from harm. Outside the building, Iron Man and Falcon focused on their heavy artillery. It was a system that they’d pulled off time and time again. HYDRA bases always fell to it.

But there was a difference this time.

Over the comms, Cap said, “There’s an enhanced in the field – _watch out!_ ” and Tony shot towards the building. The front right-hand corner of wall had been blown away with a grenade, so he flew through the opening and inside, where a person dressed in black spandex was currently going toe-to-toe with Captain America.

To his right, the Winter Soldier was stuck to the wall with-

Were those _webs?_

“Who the hell is that?” Hawkeye asked as Tony landed.

Black Widow pulled away from the computers, lifted her leg up high and slammed it through the processor. “No idea,” she said, pulling her gun from her holster. “He’s giving Cap a run for his money, though.”

This was true. The figure was leaping and flipping around, on the floor one moment and on the ceiling the next, jabbing with fast punches and then dropping low to sweep Cap’s feet out from beneath him. When he stood back up, jumping back at all the attention on him, Tony noticed the large white spider-like symbol on his chest, stark against the black of the suit. His face was masked with only two white eyes visible.

“Enjoy the show?” the figure asked. Tony frowned, his voice sounded young, upbeat, like a _kid_. Trust HYDRA to hire a _child._

“Not really, kid,” Tony said. “Wasn’t worth the five ninety-five I paid.”

“Five ninety-five?” the kid asked. “God, you haven’t seen a movie in _ages_. The tickets prices are extortionate these days.” Tony shot his hand up suddenly, a blast of energy coming from his hand, but the kid leapt to the side and out of the way. “Damn, give a guy some warning next time.”

“Not likely,” Cap said, leaping back up into the fight. The kid shot a web from his wrists – what the _fuck_ , by the way – and the shield stuck to the wall. He dodged and dipped around Captain’s flying fists, then flipped away as Black Widow entered the fight. Tony could’ve sworn he’d heard the kid _laugh_ , like he was having fun.

He shot a repulsor at the bank of computers, to make sure they were out, then stomped over to the Winter Soldier, resulting to blasting at the webs holding him to the wall when he couldn’t cut them loose.

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “Appreciate that.” He ran off into the battle with the kid, who focused on evasion more than anything else, and Tony picked up a piece of the webbing.

“FRIDAY,” he said, “scan this. I want to know what it is.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” his AI replied. The scan finished quickly and a long list of components appeared on his monitor. “It’s a manmade substance, with incredible durability and strength.”

Tony blinked the list away and dropped the webbing. Who the hell was this kid?

As he thought the words, Falcon said, “Incoming in your direction,” over the comms and three figures leapt through the hole in the wall, ropes dangling behind. Only a moment later, their helicopter swerved towards the ground.

“Black Spider!” one of the gunmen shouted as Tony hit the gun away from the closest man and shot him back out onto the street. “Time to go!”

“Sorry, guys!” the kid – Black Spider – cried. “Guess that’s my ride.” He flipped over the Avengers and leapt out of the building, Iron Man throwing the two gunmen outside as he went.

“Not so fast!” Tony said, taking a running start and flying after the kid. Tony watched as he used the webs that shot from his wrist to catch onto the buildings and swing him down the street. Tony could see the incoming copters – they’d probably be his escape route. Tony alerted Falcon to their presence and picked up speed on the chase after the spiderkid.

Still, he was fast, swinging around corners and leaping down the streets. They were pulling away from HYDRA’s base fast when Tony shot a repulsor at him. The kid wavered and let go of his web on the upswing, flying through the air and landing hard on a rooftop. Tony landed close by.

“Fuck, dude,” the kid said, struggling to get back on his feet. “That was seriously uncool.”

“Give it up kid,” Tony replied, the face plate of his suit sliding up. “HYDRA is a dead-end job. They don’t have good benefits and their schooling system is a sham.”

The kid snorted and climbed to his feet. “Whatever, old man.”

“ _Old man_?” Tony asked, incredulous. “I’m not a day over thirty.”

“Sure, and I’m not part spider.”

“ _Part_ spider? Did your father impregnate a literal _spider_ to have you?”

The kid shrugged, stepped backwards, towards the edge of the roof. “Don’t know, don’t care. I’ve got to get going. It was nice to meet you. I’d say I’m a big fan, but, well, I’m not.”

The kid turned and Tony shot at the same moment. Rather than leaping away, the spiderkid fell, grabbing onto the ledge of the roof while the rest of him dangled. Tony made his way over, and reached down to pluck off the mask, but the kid swung his legs back up and jumped onto the rooftop.

“Nice trick,” the kid said, before Tony swung out again. The kid was faster than him, though, and flipped back. “If you wanted to see my face, you just had to ask. It’s no _secret_ , Mr Stark.” The name ran through him like a shiver. It was one thing, being called Iron Man by an enemy, but it always felt different when they directed their words at the man behind the armour.

The kid pulled the black fabric from his face and smiled something dangerous. He was just a kid, truly. A young, fresh-faced teenager with a mess of brown hair and nothing remotely evil about his features. _This_ was not the face of a HYDRA agent. Tony couldn’t picture it, couldn’t imagine him shouting _Heil HYDRA_ and stamping his feet. This was a kid who should be in school, who should be going to parties on Saturday nights and making stupid mistakes he’d apologise for in the morning.

“Your face is very expressive,” the kid noted. Tony’s visor immediate slammed shut and he laughed. “I see it a lot. HYDRA’s a bunch of cradle snatchers, I know. Right out the womb they got me. Child soldier and all that.” He waved a hand like it didn’t bother him. “Anyway. I’m gonna head off now. I’ll see you around.”

This time, when the Black Spider leapt off the building, Tony didn’t stop him. He wanted to, but his muscles wouldn’t move. Instead, he just pictured the face of the kid, the _child_ fighting HYDRA’s war. His own son – Peter – would be about that age.

The thought of Peter being caught up in anything like that was enough to send a shiver down his spine, and Iron Man flew back to the destroyed base, determined to ignore that feeling.


	2. Black Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has been missing for ten years. He doesn't know that though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments on chapter one! Pretty please keep up the enthusiasm for the upcoming chapters lmao.
> 
> So here's Peter's perspective. Chapter 3 is from Tony's. I'm v excited.
> 
> ooh! a note! i actually went through aLL of spidermans various suits before deciding on the black one. its based off of the black suit that i think gwen stacy made for peter after the venom fiasco. it was "sexier", apparently, and it became his regular suit until it freaked mary jane out too much (bad memories or something idk) and he went back to his normal red and blue. anyway, that was it. i just wanted to tell you about that. my all time favourite spiderman suit is the one where peter dresses up in a fantastic four uniform and sticks a paper bag on his head, though.

Peter woke up, small and young and afraid, in a dark room. There were no windows here, just one fluorescent strip light across the ceiling and an ominous iron door on the far wall. He had no toys to play with, no books to read or pieces to tinker with. Just his metal bed with thin mattress, the shiny silver toilet and sink and the tray of food, sitting on the floor at the foot of the door where there was clearly some kind of delivery slot.

He didn’t eat the food. It was taken away a day later and replaced with something fresh. Peter slept, cried and called out for his parents. He missed them. He had been in the lab with Daddy building an engine. Daddy was excited because he was Peter’s age when he built his first engine, and Peter was going to follow in his footsteps (Daddy’s feet were much bigger than Peter’s, so he found them quite easy to follow, as his footsteps were therefore really obvious and hard to miss.)

The people in black had arrived and there’d been an explosion. They had guns, lots of them. Daddy had held him tight, pressed a kiss to his temple and _promised him_ everything would be alright. Daddy had collapsed in a pool of his own blood and Peter had been torn away from his body, but Peter refused to think of him as a liar. He was sure Daddy believed he was telling the truth, it just hadn’t turned out that way.

So the days wore on, and eventually, Peter ate. Then, men in lab coats arrived, and a while later, they told him he wasn’t a prisoner, he was home.

 

-

 

Home was a strange concept, not necessarily foreign to Peter, but difficult to define and put into words as the years started passing in earnest. His home now felt very different to the home he could barely remember. The memories of his parents – golden, sun-like hair and nimble, fixing hands – were vague and blurry at best. The warmth and light he could picture around the far-off images of building things, of beaches and sunny days were a comfort, but they weren’t reality.

Some days, Peter was sure he’d made it all up.

The only home he knew now was the base. It was underground – he only saw the sun when he was escorted outside to train there – with pipes and beams running through everything. There were a lot of people, too. They always wore white coats and black clothes. Always.

So did Peter. They didn’t really suit him. His favourite colour was red, but no one would give him any red clothes, so he settled for the black.

His home was filled with strangers that pretended they were teachers. They’d teach him about science, maths, world politics. They’d teach him about great wars – the ones they’d unjustly lost; about how they – HYDRA – had hidden themselves out of protection, but were growing, thriving, and would soon be able to show themselves in the light and change the world.

“For the better?” Peter had asked.

“Of course,” they’d replied. “For the better.”

He was trained in other things, too. Fighting, mostly. Combat against other soldiers – some his age, some much older. There was hand-to-hand combat, which he always enjoyed the most, but they insisted on teaching him to shoot guns, throw knives, be able to fight with anything he had on hand. Peter, they noted, was always resourceful. He was always intelligent, too – it was why they took him to the chamber.

-

 

“Who’s that?” Peter asked, as the cryo-pod defrosted. He watched the ice melt around the body inside, watched as his chest finally started moving, slowly, as he began to breathe again.

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” the agent by his side said. The agent was called Agent Barnum. He was gone more often than not, but always took a particular interest in Peter’s development. He was thirteen, stronger than the other students – a natural fighter with a faster mind. Barnum always said there were great things in store for him.

“The Winter Soldier,” Peter breathed. He knew the legends; been taught them in history lessons. The greatest assassin HYDRA had ever had. But he was a myth, a ghost story. Not even the HYDRA agents that taught him were sure he existed – he couldn’t have. He would’ve been at least seventy years old. _It’s the name_ , one agent had told him. _It doesn’t matter who the person is, as long as they’re extraordinary. The Winter Soldier is concept, not a person_.

But there he was, the cryo-pod door opening and the cold air breezing into the room.

“He’s real?” Peter asked.

“Real as life,” Barnum replied.

“Why is he frozen?”

“How do you think the legend has gone on so long? After his missions are over, we put him into cryo-sleep. He’s only aged a few years in the last fifty.”

Peter turned the words over in his head, his eyes steady on the Winter Soldier ahead of him. Soon enough, the man’s eyes opened and he was able to step from the pod. He was shirtless, for reasons Peter couldn’t discern, and he noted the way the metal arm was grafted to the shoulder; the scarring that looked suspiciously like fingers clawing the prosthetic off shining red in the light.

Later, Peter was there in the room as the Winter Soldier was briefed for his upcoming op. Peter hadn’t gone on any missions yet; he was too young, so he listened, enraptured, to the details. When it was over, he looked to the Soldier to find his eyes already staring right back.

“Who’s the kid?” the Soldier asked, voice low, gravelly. He hadn’t spoken a single word the whole time.

“Agent Parker,” someone else said. He’d been given the name _Parker_ after the scientist that worked on him – Richard Parker. He visited once a week to check his vitals, ask questions, occasionally take DNA swabs. “He’s one of our finest recruits.”

“A little young, don’t you think?” the Winter Soldier drawled.

Peter clenched his jaw, stood up straighter. He’d been told he was too young often; too young to work in the labs, to go on ops. He wasn’t having the legendary assassin think the same of him.

“I figured you were all assholes but I didn’t think you’d do the whole _child soldier_ thing.”

“Barnes,” someone said in a warning tone.

There was something off about his presence – Peter met his eyes and he was filled with this sense of awareness. Like the Winter Soldier knew too much.

Someone sighed and flipped open a notebook. When they spoke, it wasn’t in English, but Peter had been trained in various languages since the day he arrived. They were Russian and as Barnum tugged Peter from the room, he translated them in his head.

“Longing… Rusted… Seventeen… Daybreak…”

“What was wrong with him?” Peter asked with a frown.

“Sometimes, he wakes up not knowing who he is, not knowing what side he fights for,” Barnum replied. “We have trigger words that remind him.”

Peter looked back through the open door, into the Winter Soldier’s chamber, as they left.

“Homecoming… One… Freight car.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes darkened, and whatever sense Peter had about the man was long gone.

 

-

 

“It’s time,” Richard Parker said when Peter awoke. It was his fifteenth birthday. The eleventh of August. On his birthdays, he was served a bigger portion and got to leave ten minutes early from training.

Not today.

“Time for what?” Peter asked, pulling himself from his bed. He hadn’t been in the dank room he’d first lived in for many years. When he started training, they’d placed him in a room of eight bunks. The other recruits his age slept there, too. Now, they were up early, everyone else still asleep, and talking in whispers.

“For what we’ve been preparing you for.”

Peter hoped it was his first solo mission. He’d only gone on group ops so far and was _dying_ to prove himself.

“Come along.”

Peter followed Richard Parker down the empty halls and into the lab. At the far end, they passed through a door into a small viewing room, overlooking a brightly lit laboratory. The viewing room was packed and Peter swallowed his nerves. High up agents were there, like Barnum, Gideon Malick (who he’d only met once, but hadn’t really liked), Strucker.

The latter of the group was the one to catch Richard’s arm as they moved to pass. “This isn’t going to be like the twins, is it?” he asked, his voice low and threatening. Peter had heard of the twins, of Strucker’s narrow escape from Sokovia. The world had assumed him dead, but he’d crawled into the hole HYDRA hid in, just like everyone else.

“The twins weren’t indoctrinated like him,” Richard replied. “Unlike you, I didn’t raise a traitor.”

Peter frowned before being pulled into the lab. The twins had been traitors to the cause, but they were also mutants with super speed and strange, magical powers. Peter was just… Peter. He was incredibly intelligent and a skilled fighter, but he wasn’t like them.

“What are we doing?” Peter asked. “What have you been preparing me for?”

“Now, Peter,” Richard said without looking back, descending the staircase into the lab. “Since you joined us here, I’ve been working on an experiment. We concluded you were the best candidate a long time ago for a whole host of reasons – but this experiment will make your stronger, superior. You’ll be one of the most powerful HYDRA agents the world has ever seen.”

The room reminded him a lot of the whole Captain America transformation experiment, of the super soldier serum. He mentioned as much.

“No,” Richard said. “This is something far superior than anything Dr. Erskine could’ve come up with.”

Peter was lead to a table and prompted to take his shirt off. When he laid back against it, assistants moved forward to cuff his hands and feet into place.

“Not to burst your bubble,” Peter commented, resting his head back on the pillow they provided, “but this feels very torture-esque.”

Richard smiled as if this amused him and went about his work. When he was ready, he addressed the people in the viewing room, watching from a large window half way up the wall. They all craned their heads to see when he produced a small jar in his hand.

Peter drowned out the lecture and counted the ceiling tiles. He was at forty-one when Richard approached him.

“After nine years of experimentation,” he said, “we have finally perfected the serum, personalised for Peter’s DNA.”

“Wait,” Peter said, “does that mean you haven’t _tested it_?”

Richard smiled, placating. “We’ve run plenty of simulations, Peter.”

“But you haven’t _actively tested_ it?”

“What do you think we’re doing right now?”

Nerves swallowed Peter whole. They swarmed him, engulfing his insides and burning through his limbs. They only worsened when Richard showed him the jar and the thick-bodied spider sitting in it.

“What the fuck-”

“Don’t worry, Peter,” Richard said, pulling his gloves on. They looked thicker than the usual gloves he’d use – in fact, there was very little skin showing from anyone in the room. “You’ll feel a slight pinch and maybe some nausea.”

Peter watched, wide-eyed, when Richard unscrewed the cap of the jar, narrating for the viewers the whole time, and let the spider crawl out onto Peter’s chest. Peter shuddered as the spider walked up his chest, horribly slow. It stopped on his shoulder when it bit him.

It felt worse than a pinch. It felt like burning.

Later, he’d watch the footage zoom in on the spider, and the blueish colour Peter’s skin turned in the spot the spider bit him. Right now, he could only see black.

 

-

 

“Bet it wasn’t a great show,” Peter said, three days later, leaning against the toilet. The room he was in was identical to that one he vaguely remembered from his first few days on the base. Maybe it was the same one.

Richard, sitting on Peter’s bed, smiled. “It’s no worry. They’re all very excited to see you once the nausea passes. Your DNA has been remoulding itself, and there’s already clear differences.”

Yeah, like how Peter doesn’t need to use contact lenses anymore. Or how after hours of retching in the toilet on the second day, he looked down to find that his toned body from years of training had become leaner, stronger. He was even slightly taller, in fact. He could hear everything, too. See everything, smell everything. His senses were dialled up to eleven and he’d broken the fluorescent light on the first day because it hurt too much.

He’d been gaining powers, but it felt strange to acknowledge. He’d spent years being told that mutants were a scourge – that they needed to be contained – and yet they’d made him into one.

Still, a few days later, after the blinding pain and boiling insides wore through, everyone looked at him in a new light. He hadn’t been so flexible before; hadn’t been able to climb on walls, or innately sense incoming danger – which they demonstrated, of course, by having him turn around and dodge incoming bullets.

He was a super soldier, but better, more advanced with new tricks up his sleeve that Captain America couldn’t account for.

“Agent Parker,” Burnam said with a smile, “I suppose your solo ops start now.”

“Seriously?” Peter asked.

“Of course. But we’re going to need to give you a new name-”

“And a new suit,” someone else piped up.

It was less than a week later that Black Spider was born.

 

-

 

A year later, swinging from beneath the helicopter that took him away from the Avengers and the decimated HYDRA base, Peter’s heart felt strange in his chest, like it was thumping out of rhythm.

He thought about the man on the roof – Mr Stark, Iron Man. He’d been told once that maybe one day, he’d kill the man, just like he’d kill the Winter Soldier, the traitorous deserter. Peter, for the first time, wasn’t sure, though.

 _Your face is very expressive,_ Peter had said after pulling away his mask. Tony Stark looked wrecked, when he saw Peter’s face, like a thousand emotions had crashed on top of him, swallowing him whole. But there was something familiar in his face, too. Something Peter couldn’t fully figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: u can totally hit the subscribe button and get emails when i post bc this is gonna be like 6 chapters long and i dont want yall to miss any


	3. HYDRA are Nazis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter is a sassy little shit and tony's refusing to acknowledge his paternal instincts. tony's pov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooooooooooooo thank you so much for the positive response to the fic so far! I'm estimating six chapters right now. I think I'm almost finished with chapter 5.
> 
> in the last chapter, i was asked what peter's black spider suit looks like, so [here's a cool image](https://media.aintitcool.com/media/legacy/images2006/Blackenstein.jpg) . i was going to use one of the ones from the comics, but in the original spiderman trilogy, peter actually got to wear a black suit, and so that might work better for the imagination. it's not the same as venom, mind you - but the black suit IS based off of venom's design. just angstier. 
> 
> i'm gonna talk a bit about nazis in the end notes so stay tuned for that

“He’s called the Black Spider,” Steve had said as if everyone hadn’t heard it shouted in the HYDRA base. They were sitting in the conference room, the whole Avengers team watched the footage captured by FRIDAY. On the screen, the volume was turned off as the kid spoke and pulled his mask off.

“Actually, he’s called Peter Parker,” Bucky replied.

Tony shot Bucky a look. Maybe it was just the name. _Peter_. The name was a common one, granted, but he hadn’t heard it in so long; hadn’t heard it uttered without a sense of loss surrounding the word.

“And how the hell do you know that?” Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged. “I remember it. He was stationed in the same base as me. I get flashes of memories sometimes; they never _erased_ anything, just pushed it really far back. I can remember him though – Peter Parker. He was like, twelve, when I met him first. They’d been training him for years – he was their prodigy child.”

The words struck Tony in the chest and he lost all the air in his lungs. _Prodigy child. Prodigy baby._ An image of Pepper whispering the words as kissing Peter’s forehead.

Bucky didn’t know these things, though – he didn’t know the significance of the words and kept on as if he wasn’t flaying Tony Stark alive.

“He was going to be the next me,” Bucky continued. “I trained with him a few times before I left. Talented kid, little shit too.”

“And he had these powers back then?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, he was normal when I knew him. But I knew they were working on something for him, to make him different. I heard about it a little. They were creating super soldier assassins, remember?” Tony remembered the image of the cryo-pods, each with a bullet hole in the glass, in Siberia. He forced away the rest of the memory. “They weren’t just going one way about it. That kid is their new Winter Soldier.”

“Didn’t seem like a hardened assassin to me,” Nat commented.

“That’s because he’s a _kid_ ,” Tony replied, staring at the screen. It was paused on the image of Peter holding his mask, smiling something dangerous.

“I was a hardened assassin by his age,” Nat said, light. “But I guess we had different life experiences.”

“Either way,” Steve said. “He’s a problem. I could barely land a hit on the guy. I don’t want to kill him – he’s a kid – but he needs to be caught and rehabilitated.”

“You think you could even do that?” Clint asked, after being silent the whole time.

“It worked for Bucky,” Steve replied.

“Bucky’s an adult,” Bruce said. “He became the Winter Soldier as an adult. He wasn’t raised into it, wasn’t nurtured into being a killer. Bucky had a life before being an assassin; he had experiences and memories away from HYDRA. This kid? If he’s been trained all his life to be one thing, it’ll be the toughest thing in the world to make him any different.”

The room was silent for a moment, all eyes making their way to the screen. Peter Parker, the Black Spider.

“We have to try,” Tony said, quiet. “If we don’t try, we’ll never forgive ourselves.”

 

-

 

Despite their previous luck with finding HYDRA bases, there was nothing on Peter Parker or his whereabouts. All that meant was that they’d have to go through every HYDRA base on their list and hope to find him there.

He wasn’t in many.

For weeks, Tony left his and Pepper’s bed in the early hours of the morning, pressing a kiss against her temple and leaving in the quinjet. They went to base after base, calling in favours and part-time Avengers to help with the cause. Wanda and Vision came on most of the missions, Scott and Hope when they were close enough to make the trip, and at one HYDRA base, there was a man in a red suit with black panda eyes, wielding katanas and murdering the shit out of everyone in sight.

Tony had Deadpool on his radar, but he was decidedly _not_ Avengers material.

(“I could’ve done this without you,” Deadpool said after, when they were searching through the wreckage for anything helpful.

“We didn’t even want you here,” Tony replied, gesturing to the blood-splattered walls and the gruesome corpses on display. “You’re a liability.”

“Hey, I only came here in the first place because one of these dickweeds stole my favourite gun. I didn’t know Earth’s Mightiest Assholes would be coming today, or I would’ve cut my losses.”

Tony watched as Deadpool collected all the guns he could carry before leaving. He also decided he never wanted to speak to the guy again.)

But for two months, there was no sign of the Black Spider, of Peter Parker, of the kid.

“There’s chatter,” Nat said, waving a hand. Her feet were propped up on the conference table, her laptop in front of her. “But it’s chatter, it’s not always to be trusted.”

“What does the chatter say?” Tony asked. The whole team wasn’t here – they were out saving the day or something Avengers-related. Unfortunately, people didn’t stop being evil just because they were searching for a teenaged assassin.

“It says that the Black Spider killed Hans Jodenheimer.”

“And who is that?”

“A Swedish physicist. He was under SHIELD protection after some recent ground-breaking discoveries, but now he’s very much dead, and the only agent who made it out alive claims that he saw a guy in a black suit with a white spider emblem on his chest.”

The kid was killing people in the name of HYDRA. Part of Tony thought it was best to treat the assassin like all other HYDRA agents; put them down or they come back up spitting venom. But the rest of Tony overpowered this notion – there was something about this kid that got to him (he wasn’t an idiot, he knew it was the name; his heart-wrenching connection to the name of his only son).

Still, after two months of searching, they found him.

“Canada,” Steve said. “Why is it always Canada?”

“There’s drama in the ice,” Nat replied.

 

-

 

The HYDRA base was a hidden compound in the middle of nowhere. It was on the edge of the tundra, where the temperature dropped dramatically but only a few miles away from where it dropped to unliveable.

After a scan, the base seemed to be made up of a collection of small buildings clustered around a large one. On all sides, ten-foot brick walls stood, the tops covered with barbed wire and electricity that pulsed through it all.

It was one of the more secure bases they’d taken down; like it was run by better funded members than the makeshift warehouses in the cities. At a distance, Tony took in the patrols, the guns. There were several surface-to-air launchers, as well as well over one-hundred people filling the buildings. There seemed to be a strange energy source, coming from the large building, too. Tony relayed the information before Cap set out their game plan.

The approached from one side.

Tony created a hole in the wall, that the ground-based heroes ran through, immediately taking down three guards and splitting up to cover separate sides of the base.

While Falcon and Vision took on the missile launchers, Scarlet Witch flew to the far side of the compound and began destroying the buildings, whether people were still inside or not. The red, swirling energy that flowed from her fingertips tore the brickwork apart, piece by piece.

Tony, being Tony, dove for the large building and the energy source.

He was side-tracked a few times by a tank, a missile launcher no one had taken out yet, and to serve as back up for Cap when he found himself surrounded. Eventually, he crashed through a window and into the building.

“FRIDAY,” Tony said, “take me to that energy source.”

“You got it, Boss.” A route appeared in front of him and he took it, shooting down the bad guys in his path and flying down the halls at break-neck speeds.

Eventually, he found himself in a chamber, reminiscent of both a lab and a sex dungeon. Chains hung from the ceiling, blood coating many of the surfaces, tools and weapons littering the tables. In the centre of the room was the pulsating six-foot tall... _egg?_

It certainly looked like one, glowing purple. FRIDAY’s scan told him it was emitting a possibly lethal amount of radiation, and that staying nearby for too long could be dangerous to his health.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Is there a way to disable it? Destroy it?”

“No,” a voice said behind him. Tony spun around to face the Black Spider, leaning against a wall by the door he’d entered through. Tony hadn’t seen the Spider on any of his scans, nor had he noticed him when he entered. “That thing’s gonna kill a lot of people, whether you do anything about it or not.”

“Spiderkid,” Tony said. “You really want people to die?”

In his ear, Cap said, “You’ve got eyes on the kid?”

Hawkeye added, “Tony, we’re headed to your location.”

“You shouldn’t bother,” the Black Spider said, loud. “The radiation alone will kill you without a suit like Iron Man’s.” He seemed very relaxed about it all, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

“How can you hear my comms?” Tony asked. He had the distinct feeling the kid was smiling.

“ _Super_ enhanced hearing,” he replied. “I can hear that fly’s wings, on the other side of the room. Can hear your heartbeat through your suit – it’s fast, are you nervous?”

“Kid,” Tony said. “This thing is going to kill people.”

“I know, I don’t care and that’s not my name.”

Tony let out a breath. His face plate slid up. “Peter.” The word cracked through his chest.

Peter tilted his head to the side. “Winter Soldier snitched, huh?”

“Peter,” Tony repeated. “What does this thing do? How do I stop it?”

“You don’t,” Peter replied. “It’s a fail-safe. It was safe and harmless until you broke down the wall. Then Strucker turned it on, ran, and now it’s going to kill everyone.”

“Including you?” Tony asked at the same time as Cap said, “Strucker? I thought he was dead.”

“He’s very much alive,” Peter replied. “But no, not including me. See, there’s this whole plan where I leave and the Avengers die. It seems pretty messy, like it wasn’t thought through, and I don’t have much faith in it, but whatever. Heil HYDRA and all that.”

“And what about Hans Jodenheimer?” Tony asked. “You killed him.”

“I was told to,” Peter replied with a shrug. “I’m not a big fan of the whole _killing_ thing, personally. I know it’s the HYDRA mission statement, but I figure there are a lot better things to be doing with my time than committing murder. Still.” Peter shrugged and pushed away from the wall, hands dangling by his sides.

“Peter,” Tony said. “We can help you.”

Peter scoffed. “I don’t need any help from you. You, however, are going to need a hand.”

Tony didn’t have a chance to ask why before the kid shot out a few webs from his wrists, sticking his feet to the floor. Tony tried to walk forwards but found he couldn’t.

“Kid,” he said. “Peter.”

Peter shrugged. “Your suit will protect you from the radiation. But it won’t protect you when that thing explodes.” Peter swivelled on one foot and started for the door.

“Explodes?” Tony called after him. “It’s a bomb?”

“Totally!” Peter replied, over his shoulder. “The glowing thing is _always_ a bomb!”

Then he was gone and Cap was shouting that he was on his way and Tony had to stop him in his tracks. The radiation would kill him.

“What about me?” Vision asked.

“You’ll do,” Tony replied, trying to fly out of the webbing, but finding it stretching slightly with no further give. “Microwave ovens are used to radiation.”

Only a few moments later Vision flew through the wall. He used the stone in his head to burn away the webbing, and they were flying after the kid seconds after that. Peter had gone missing however; completely vanished from the building as Tony ordered scan after scan from FRIDAY.

“He must be outside somewhere,” he said only a heartbeat before Wanda shouted, “I can see the Black Spider!”

They converged on her location. Again, the Black Spider weaved and leapt around their lasers and fists. He evaded, dodged and ducked, barely throwing a punch but occasionally swinging out a leg to knock someone down.

When the Winter Soldier got close enough to engage him in combat, the Black Spider fought back with a fury, giving every hit he took. “It’s nice to see you again!” he quipped, dodging around a fist. “Malick said I’m supposed to kill you, but I suppose the bomb will do that for me.” He backflipped out of range and gave the Winter Soldier two finger guns before sprinting away.

It wasn’t enough though, as they ran after him, bullets flying, lasers spraying across the snow. It was Wanda whose magic forced him to slow. He struggled against it before going limp.

“Well, this is inconvenient,” he said. “How long can you keep that up for?”

“All day,” Wanda replied.

“Shit.” The Black Spider huffed, rolled his head back. “Would you mind taking me away from the compound? I don’t want to die in a fiery explosion.”

“How long until that thing goes off?” Cap asked.

“About two minutes.”

“Great,” the Winter Soldier said. “Gives me enough time to do this.” With one punch to the face, Peter was out like a light. Wanda dropped her magic and Cap picked up the kid, collapsed on the floor.

They headed out, FRIDAY bringing the quinjet to them, and getting on board just as a blinding purple light exploded across the compound. It rocked the quinjet, the trees for a good mile catching fire as the ground crumbled in on itself, forming a crater where they were standing only a minute before.

“Alien tech?” Cap asked.

“Alien tech,” Tony confirmed.

 

-

 

At the Avengers compound in upstate New York, Tony had previously built a chamber, much like the one SHIELD had on their helicarrier to hold the Hulk. He figured if it could hold the Hulk, it could probably hold the spiderkid.

He was there, sitting in a chair in the vast brick room, staring at the glass cage, when Peter came to. He was maskless now, still in his Black Spider suit, and his sleeping face reminded Tony too much of what he’d lost. When Peter was asleep, he couldn’t have looked further from being a killer.

Peter groaned and rolled onto his side when he woke up. The glass box contained a narrow bed, a toilet and sink. There would be guards stationed outside the door, and round-the-clock monitoring of the room. He was on the bed, but his eyes slammed open when he rolled too close to the edge.

It took a moment before he noticed Tony.

“This is a new low,” Peter said before shutting his eyes. He lifted a hand to rub at his temple. “Mind lowering the lights? It’s too bright in here.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “FRIDAY, lower the lights.” The lights dimmed significantly before Peter opened his eyes again.

“Is this what a hangover feels like?” he asked.

“No, that’s what getting knocked out by the Winter Soldier feels like.”

Peter nodded, once. “I’ll make sure not to let that happen again.” He pushed himself up and sat against the glass wall behind him. “Are you here to play good cop?”

“No,” Tony replied. “I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

A small part of Tony knew that if this weren’t a kid, a kid named _Peter_ of all things, he wouldn’t be here and he certainly wouldn’t be so calm.

Peter eyed him and didn’t respond. Instead, he looked around his cell and let out a long breath. “When does the torture start?” he asked.

“Wh- What?” Tony asked, incredulous. _The torture?_

“Yeah, like, is there a schedule? I prefer my torture to be on a schedule. I like the counting between rounds, figuring out the pattern, you know? That way I can’t be surprised with a drill to the knee, because I’ll _know_ the drill is coming.”

“You’re a _child_ ,” Tony said, breathless. “You shouldn’t have opinions on torture techniques.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s part of the training. And this nasty dude caught me once, like six months ago, thought electrocution would be fun. I didn’t break, though. I got rescued before that could happen – but I’d never break, anyway. Only cowards break.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Only cowards break?” _Jeez, kid._

“Only cowards and people who have something worth breaking for.”

“We’re not going to torture you,” Tony said, trying to push his thoughts away from the chatter. He really was just a teenager, under it all. A teenager that liked to talk. “We don’t do that here. We want to _help_ you.”

“To turn me against HYDRA.”

“Well, that’s a given. They’re Nazis.”

Peter frowned. “Are they-”

“Yes. HYDRA are Nazis.”

“I thought they were just the Nazi’s weapon division-”

“Nazis,” Tony said. “All of them. You too, then.”

Barely, Tony could hear Peter say, “That doesn’t sound right.”

“What about your parents? Your family? Where are they?”

Peter shrugged. “Don’t have a family. Never did.”

“Never?”

“Not as far as I can remember.”

When Tony left the room, he didn’t feel any better. There were more questions than answers and he didn’t think he was going to get anything out of the kid, even if he asked all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! pretty please hit up the comments, i love reading your thoughts!
> 
> so, nazis.
> 
> i couldn't write a hydra!peter fic without addressing nazis, because, well, nazis. when i decided to bring it up, i thought a lot about agents of shield and how grant ward was like "no dude im not a nazi" and skye (back when she was skye) was like "no dude, hydra IS nazism, ergo, you a nazi."
> 
> as i tried to show in chapter 2, peter is a product of his environment. Hydra School absolutely cut out the important bits of history and skewed the stories for him, so he'll learn the truth soon enough. anyway if you have any questions about that or how i characterised people or whatever, hmu i'll be happy to answer your questions.
> 
> you can also talk to me on [tumblr](http://tempestaurora.tumblr.com/) bc i'm lonely there


	4. Glass Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst and development and junk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a longer chapter and my favourite one yet.

After Stark, the first person that visited Peter was the head of SHIELD, himself, Director Fury.

“I would spit at your feet,” Peter said, rolling his head, “but I’m in a glass cube and it would cause me more inconvenience than you.”

“Funny, Mr Parker,” Fury replied. He strolled around the box like he had all the time in the world, hands clasped behind his back and the starts of an amused smile about his lips. “You can probably guess why I’m here.”

“Here to take me away to some top secret SHIELD headquarters and hide me in a basement for the rest of my life?” Peter guessed.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve already argued enough with Tony Stark and his band of merry men about taking you away and they’re simply not having it. You’ll be staying here for the time being.”

“Oh sweet,” Peter drawled. “I _love_ peeing in front of the camera.”

Fury exhaled a laugh. “I’m here to ask you about HYDRA and their facilities. Numbers, names, locations. All the good stuff.”

“Then you’ve wasted a trip,” Peter replied. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Don’t let Rogers hear that potty mouth,” Fury chided.

Respect to Fury, Peter figured, for trying for another twenty minutes. But Peter wasn’t going to give anyone up, even if he was a little confused about the whole Nazi/HYDRA relationship. He didn’t think he could ask anyone here about it, though, because they’d just say the same thing as Stark, and he figured there’d be a bias.

 

-

 

The next person to visit him was half a day later. Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. He figured it was because she, too, was a spy and assassin. When she came in, she sat down in the chair and stared at him.

Peter, sitting on the bed, stared back.

They stayed that way unlike Peter’s eyes began to water and he blinked.

There was a hint of a smile on Natasha’s lips as she rose and left the room. Peter frowned and didn’t say a word.

 

-

 

“Mr Good and Righteous,” Peter greeted when Steve Rogers walked in.

“Peter.” Rogers settled himself in the chair and Peter spoke before he had the chance to.

“Do you not like swearing?” he asked.

Rogers raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Why do you think that?”

“Something Fury said.”

Rogers shrugged. “Back when I was growing up, we swore all the time. Literally non-stop. The words started to have no meaning. But, it was polite not to swear around women and children. It’s a force of habit.” Peter nodded, understanding, then leaned back against the glass and waited. “So,” Rogers began, “when’d you join HYDRA?”

“When I was a kid,” Peter replied. Peter wouldn’t break under questioning, but there were things he didn’t see the need to keep secret. His identity as an agent had never been a secret, nor the Black Spider – it was just not commonly known, apparently, including to Avengers.

“How young?”

Peter shrugged, leant up against the glass. “Don’t remember. My only memories are of HYDRA.” This wasn’t the whole truth, but again, Peter wasn’t going to tell him that.

“And you remember Bucky?”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “You mean the Winter Soldier? Yeah, I remember him. Fun to spar with, always kicked my ass. Watched him defrost one time, learned about the trigger words, too – you know, the ones that make him remember who he is?”

There was a glint of worry in Steve’s eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s what I was told. When _Bucky_ wakes up, he doesn’t always remember who he is and who he works for, so they say the words that help him remember. Then he’s back to his usual, kind of grumpy, self.”

Steve sat up in the chair. Peter could see he was working through the information.

“And you’re supposed to kill him?”

Again, he shrugged. “Not really sure. Sometimes, the guys on top are all like, _it’s your duty to make the Winter Soldier pay for what he did_ , and sometimes they don’t care. Occasionally, they’re like, _one day you will take down the Avengers_ , and other days they forget about that and say, _hey, murder this scientist for us_. I think there’s an endgame plan for me to be the next super cool HYDRA assassin, but like I told Stark, I’m not really into the whole killing thing.”

“But you’ll do it?”

“If I’m told to.”

When Steve left the room, Peter strained his ears to hear him. In the moment before the door shut, he heard him say, “You’re not going in there. He knows the trigger words. You are not going near him.”

Peter flopped onto his back. His Black Spider suit had started to smell bad and when he woke up that morning, sweats and a soft, long sleeved grey shirt were sitting next to his breakfast. Now he tugged the sleeves over his hands and breathed.

“Nazis,” he mumbled. “HYDRA are _Nazis._ ”

 

-

 

Objectively, Peter knew world domination was bad.

 _Subjectively_ , he’d learned that world domination could be good if the right people were dominating. At least, that’s what Barnum told him. HYDRA wanted world domination through subservience. They didn’t want to take it by force, but subtly, quietly, through acts of terrorism and horror that eventually made it look like HYDRA was a saving grace from it all. At least, that was the plan by hiding in SHIELD.

There were layers upon layers of plans within HYDRA and Peter could never have hoped to unravel them all.

Then there were the Avengers. Heroes who tried to help people. Who signed the Accords as a show of accountability – that if they fucked up a building, they were going to pay to fix the building; that they understood that the lives lost during their battles were on them too.

Peter’s head felt funny. He’d only questioned HYDRA once in his life, in the moments after the Winter Soldier had said _I figured you were all assholes but I didn’t think you’d do the whole_ child soldier _thing._

When he’d thought about it, he’d thought about how HYDRA had surely taken him from somewhere (a loving home? a family? _somewhere_ ) and broken him down until he was pliable and ready to learn. He had vague, not-there memories of playing, of _joy_. Maybe that was what he was supposed to spend his childhood doing, not training to fight in a battle that _Nazis_ had started. He’d questioned the system he grew up in for a moment, and then had been torn away from that line of thinking.

“Soldiers who train from a young age are more loyal,” Barnum told him. “They’re more dedicated to the cause.” And there had been no one more dedicated than the kid who got bit by a radioactive spider in the name of HYDRA.

“Hail HYDRA,” Peter muttered, almost feeling disgust with the words themselves. He thought, briefly, about Captain America clearing the Queens warehouse of civilians and helping them get to safety. He cared about human life.

Peter couldn’t remember a time when he was told to think of the civilians. Maybe he never was.

 

-

 

When he woke up next, a woman with long sun-like hair was sat in the chair, one leg crossed over the other. She stared at him with an even gaze, and when he looked at her, something got caught in his throat.

He coughed, but the feeling in his chest was heavy, significant. He couldn’t figure why.

He padded over to the food tray that held his breakfast (a bowl of cereal, a metallic jug of milk and a plastic cup filled with water) and sat down in front of it. He poured the milk over the cereal and started eating.

When she spoke, she was so quiet that he wouldn’t have heard her if not for his advanced hearing. “I had a son named Peter.”

He looked up, she was still staring at him.

He finished his bite of cereal. “What happened to him?”

“We don’t know. He was taken when he was small. Killed, probably. The military, the police, everyone who searched for him – they thought he was taken by the same people that took Tony a month later.”

“Who took him?”

“The Ten Rings,” the woman replied. Peter had heard of them – their network was expansive but not nearly as sophisticated as HYDRA – it was mostly destroyed in the past decade and scurried back into the shadows. “Of course, they were hired by a man called Obadiah Stane.” Peter had heard of him, too. “He worked with Tony. Wanted him out of the picture to take over Stark Industries. It made sense that he would have his heir kidnapped, too. I wasn’t in line to receive the company, so with Tony and Peter both gone, Obadiah had complete control. For three months I was a wreck. Felt like my insides had been torn to pieces with glass. Every day I got up, telling myself that this was the day my family was going to come back, and every night I went to bed, believing they were dead.”

Peter stopped eating. The woman’s expression hadn’t changed, but he could hear the heartbreak in her voice. Losing your whole family in one fell swoop was enough to kill a person from the inside out.

“On my worst nights, I was going to end it all. Just take a handful of pills, drift away, you know? I didn’t know how it was possible to keep going on without them. But one day, I picked myself up and decided that whether they came back or not, I still had a lot to do. I had a lot to live for. It was a few weeks later that Tony came home. That was ten years ago. We’re still waiting on Peter.”

He swallowed, then started with his cereal again. He didn’t want it going soggy.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes taking him in; his sleeves pulled over his hands, his legs crossed, feet covered with warm socks. At some point, someone took his suit away. It had very few special enhancements – a tracker, an inbuilt comms system, the webshooters. The first two became useless when Stark had disabled them on the quinjet ride over, he was told. The third was drained of webfluid before he was put in the box. Still, he felt small. He felt young. He felt less like an agent and more like a kid.

He didn’t know if he liked that feeling.

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I was planning on asking you about your life, but when you woke up…” she sighed. “You remind me of my son.”

Peter lowered his eyes. He didn’t know this woman, thought he recognised her in a vague way, as if he’d seen her on the news or her photo on a noticeboard somewhere, but he liked her. He liked her honesty, the way she held herself.

“Two years after he was taken, the police used one of those facial reconstruction softwares to make an estimate on what he would look like since we saw him last. They used photos of him, of Tony and I, of kids at the ages they were trying to emulate. I kept every one of the photos, looked at them every day for years. There was one, a version of what he might look like at fifteen. You don’t look much like that image, if that’s what you’re wondering. But, there’s still a resemblance there.” She shook her head, stood from her chair. “Or maybe I’m just projecting, because my husband found a teenager called Peter with no family.”

The woman smiled then, despite herself. She turned to the door and made it half way before she looked back. “You remind me of what he could be if he’d been given the chance,” she said. Peter lost interest in his cereal. “My name’s Pepper, by the way. I hope you don’t mind if I visit you again.”

He shook his head. He didn’t mind at all.

 

-

 

Natasha came back, stared until he blinked, then left.

 

-

 

“Word on the street is,” Tony Stark said as he entered, “Pepper visited this morning.”

Peter nodded as Stark drew close. In his hand was a book, and he rapped at it with his knuckles, as if trying to make up his mind about what to say.

“What did you say to her?” he asked.

“Why don’t you watch the footage?”

Stark shrugged. “Feels like eavesdropping if I do that.”

Peter cracked half a smile then hid it. “I barely said anything. She did all the talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “She’s having a hard time,” he said, quiet. He caught the flicker in Stark’s expression, whether it was worry for his wife, interest in Peter caring about her, or a mixture of the two, he wasn’t sure. “She misses her son and my being here is bringing up old memories.”

Stark sighed. It felt weirdly human of him, less Iron Man, more Tony. “She’s not the only one.”

Peter was discovering, in some strange horror show, that the Avengers were not the enemies they were built up to be. They were not fighters, not torturers – they had argued to keep Peter out of the hands of people who _were_. They were deeply, worryingly human, and he hadn’t been told that.

Stark knelt down in front of the glass prison and the small, narrow hatch that the food was delivered through slipped open. The seams were barely visible and Peter couldn’t figure out how to open it himself, or how there was even a mechanism in the transparent glass, but it opened just fine for Stark.

He pushed the book through, slipped the tray with the empty plate of his dinner out.

“You looked bored,” Stark said. “I loved that book as a kid. It’ll give you something to do other than glare at the walls.”

“I’m getting really good at it, though.”

Stark smiled, though it felt fake. “Get some sleep, kid. Fury’s coming back tomorrow.”

Only after Stark had left did Peter slip down from his bed and pick up the book. _The Great Gatsby._ Peter hadn’t read this one. Actually, he could probably count the fiction books he’d read on one hand.

He climbed back into bed and started reading.

 

-

 

When Natasha visited again, he said, “I’m reading, go away.”

“Now he speaks.”

Peter waved a hand in her direction and didn’t look up from the page. There was such a mystery about Mr Gatsby. He wondered, absently, why Stark enjoyed the book so much, and figured it was to do with the link between Gatsby and his father. Mysterious rich men who always get what they want and don’t know how to deal with losing.

“I want to tell you who dies in the end,” Natasha said.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he replied.

“You don’t want to know?”

“If you tell me, I’ll break out of this box and I’ll kill you.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice. “You think you could break out of the box?”

Peter shrugged. “If I put the effort in, probably.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He stopped reading and looked up. She was going for an angle, he knew; trying to claw out some detail he’d kept hidden and wouldn’t tell them. She was a spy, she read people for a living. She was supposed to study them, learn their ticks, make them say things they wouldn’t usually say. Peter wondered if he’d already let something out of the bag.

“I don’t want to,” he replied. She was about to open her mouth, maybe to pry deeper, when he interrupted. “I want to play cards.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Cards?”

He nodded. “Any game, I don’t mind. Do you want to play?”

They played 21, then Shithead six times until Peter lost. They didn’t have a marker to write the letters S H I T on his forehead (or S H on Natasha’s), but he lost anyway.

“Call me Nat,” she said as she cleared the cards up. She didn’t say anything else before she left. Peter thought, in some sense, it was progress. He also wondered why he didn’t try to break out of the box.

 

-

 

In the middle of the night, four or five days after being captured, Peter was woken up by someone knocking on the glass. No one had ever knocked before.

He blinked his eyes open. They turned the lights down really low when he wanted to sleep, and the room was cast in a low glow. Standing next to him, peering down through the glass, was a man with shaggy brown hair and a metal arm. The Winter Soldier. Peter swallowed and sat up.

For a moment, they didn’t speak. Then, “What is it?” Peter asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Three AM.”

“Still.”

The Winter Soldier – James “Bucky” Barnes – paced around to the far end of the box, where the chair sat. He sat on the floor, however, right next to the glass. Slowly, Peter climbed out of bed, dragging his blanket with him. He pulled it around his shoulders as he sat down, facing the traitor of HYDRA.

“Who do you think I am, really?” Barnes asked.

Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I watched the footage. Three times, actually. You told Steve that the words made me remember who I was. Do you think that _monster_ they made me is who I really am?”

Peter could only hear his breathing and he focused on it. _In, out. In, out_. “I don’t know who you are,” he said at last. “I know you as the Winter Soldier. You kicked my ass then always offered your hand to pull me back up.” Strange that he’d pick that memory, rather than the security footage of his assassinations as the HYDRA techs chased after him, clearing up the evidence.

“I am not what they made me,” Barnes said, low. “You don’t have to be what they made you.”

The words startled him. “They didn’t _make_ me anything.”

“Yes,” Barnes said. “They did. They made you into a killer. Do you _like_ killing?” Peter opened his mouth but Barnes kept going. “They made you into the Black Spider – they forced your genes into mutating so they could have a powered person on their side. They took you from your family and turned you into something dark and dangerous.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Barnes replied. “I _know_ that you weren’t born into this world. There’s a life out there that was full of love and happiness and it was taken from you.”

Peter’s heart was beating too quickly in his chest. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why? Because it hurts to think about? _Good_. HYDRA should’ve left me to die. That was my fate, and they took me, turned me into something I’m not and gave me no choice about what I wanted to be.”

Peter’s heart was in his throat but it was thumping still, beating loud and climbing up into his mouth. He couldn’t vomit up his heart. He couldn’t. His lungs would come up too and then what was he going to do?

Silence reigned, but it didn’t for Peter’s enhanced hearing. The buzz of the fluorescents, Barnes’ breathing, the vent in the far corner of the room.

“I remember the thirteen-year-old kid that persuaded the agent in charge of him that they should have juice boxes to drink after training. I drank a fucking blackcurrant-flavoured “juice drink” out of a box with Mr Incredible on the side, because you wanted to be a kid, not a soldier.”

Peter had forgotten that moment. He’d forgotten the Winter Soldier, snatching one of the juice boxes from the agent’s hand and drinking it on the bench with the kids he was sparring with.

“Is Parker even your last name?”

Peter was panicking. There, he said it. The world was getting smaller, the room caving in and all he could see was Bucky fucking Barnes, staring at him like he needed to break him open and see what was inside. He hadn’t panicked like this before. Hadn’t felt the anxiety roll down his spine in a wave, his muscles tense and spasm, his fingers agitated like spiders’ legs.

There were tears threatening to spill over and Peter had the sense that Barnes saw it, that he realised he’d gotten through but he’d gotten too far inside Peter’s head and now he wasn’t going to respond because his heart was pushing against the back of his teeth and his lungs were making the journey up his oesophagus.

Without thinking, Peter started: “Longing. Rusted.”

Barnes scrambled to his feet. Peter had to get him away, had to breathe, breathe, breathe – was his mouth dripping blood? It had to be. “Seventeen.” Barnes was gone and out the door and the tears that rolled down Peter’s cheeks felt like acid. They burned his skin and he swallowed his organs back into his chest.

A very distant part of him felt bad about saying Barnes’ trigger words, but not enough to call him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls keep yelling at me in the comments and come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://tempestaurora.tumblr.com/)
> 
> pepper means the world to me. if u were with me right at the beginning, you may remember me tagging this fic as "not as much pepper as there should be". well, i learned my lesson and i threw her in EVERYWHERE because shes IMPORTANT and people forget that her relationship to peter in these kinds of fics needs to be cultivated just as much as tony's.


	5. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> developments in relationships and a whole lot of pepper feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u haven't noticed yet, pepper, her life and her relationship with peter is very important to me for this fic
> 
> edit: YOU GUYS ARE SO WONDERFUL AND SUPPORTIVE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR INCREDIBLE COMMENTS!! i knew this fic wouldn't be a big crowd-drawer, but i didn't realise the people who would read it would be so incredibly supportive and enthusiastic about my writing. you've all been so wonderful and i'd love it if you could keep it up until the end! thank you so much!

Tony watched the footage back. Peter sleeping, Bucky creeping into the room and wandering like a lost animal, trying to decide whether or not he should knock. There was a slither of information on the Black Spider found in their Canadian HYDRA excursion; a report of identified abilities Peter had exhibited. One of them was a sixth sense that alerted him to danger, and yet he slept through Barnes’ pacing, unperturbed by the soldier making up his mind.

Then they sat together and talked. Their voices were low, Bucky’s steadily growing more intense as he pushed through to Peter. After enough watches, Tony could pinpoint the moment Peter beings to curl in on himself, despising the thoughts that Bucky was putting in his head.

 _Do you think that_ monster _they made me is who I really am?_

As if Peter hadn’t thought the Winter Soldier was a monster, but just who Bucky had always been. As if he was suddenly aware of the concept that _he_ was now the monster; he was the experiment, the murdering lapdog of HYDRA that he hadn’t always been.

Tony watched the footage through and stopped it after Peter started saying Bucky’s trigger words. The soldier had run from the room, and the camera in the hall told Tony that he’d forced himself in and out of a panic attack before going to the gym and running at top speed for two hours straight.

Barnes had not yet gone back to bed. He was still exercising, as if he needed to burn off the memories.

“He’s a problem,” Steve said, having been uncommonly quiet as Tony watched the footage back over. “He knows the words that could turn Bucky into the Winter Soldier again and he’s clearly willing to use them.”

“Bucky scared the kid,” Tony replied, low.

“Bucky told him the truth.”

“The truth is scary.”

Steve sighed and Tony turned to face him. Steve tilted his head back, leaning against the table in the conference room. They were the only two there; everyone else had left when Tony had started obsessively replaying the video.

“I know you care about him,” Steve said, “but he needs to go with Fury to a secure place. Somewhere he’s safe, where he can tell people what he knows.”

“Fury’s not having him,” Tony replied. He waved a hand toward the screen and it blinked off. “Whatever’s going to happen to that kid, I’m going to be there for it.” He started for the door.

“Tony,” Steve called after him. Then, lower: “He’s not your son.”

The air left Tony’s lungs but he forced himself to breathe in again. He turned to Steve. “No, he’s not. I didn’t save my son. But him… Peter-” Tony sighed. “I can still save him. I know I can.”

He turned to the door.

“What if he’s past saving?” Steve asked.

Tony smiled as if it were a joke. “If I can’t save the kid, I’m sure as hell going to avenge him.”

 

-

 

Whenever Fury visited the kid, Peter wouldn’t talk. If he did, it would be hurling insults before turning back to the book he’d been reading. When Tony came to collect _The Great Gatsby_ , he traded it for _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Peter hadn’t said much that time, just a quiet “thanks” until Tony asked if he enjoyed the book.

“Why did Gatsby keep his past a secret?” Peter asked, and Tony was struck with a sense of youth and innocence he didn’t usually see on the boy when he was awake.

“Because he wanted to forget it,” Tony replied. “Gatsby wasn’t his past, he was his present. He didn’t want people to think less of him because of who he used to be.”

Peter had nodded and thumbed open the first page of Harper Lee’s novel, settling back on his bed.

If he wasn’t reading, it was because someone was visiting him. Clint and Natasha’s visits were occasional, and Peter wouldn’t talk to them about anything other than whatever card game they played, slipping the cards through the slot at the base of the wall, the kid not even making a move to distract or escape.

“He’s settling in,” Natasha said as she left him, a week in. “He’s run through his options and decided that his situation isn’t as bad as it could be.”

When Steve arrived every afternoon, Peter would ask questions, not answer them. He was curious and, though he didn’t want to show it, interested in learning. Especially, it seemed, learning about Steve’s past.

“The original super soldier,” Vision noted, watching the security feed with Tony, who always had it running in the background, no matter what he was doing. “If I were a betting android, I’d bet that HYDRA has been wanting to make their own super soldier since the days of World War II. It was Sergeant Barnes’ purpose and now Peter’s.”

Bucky was not allowed back in the room and FRIDAY was programmed to alert Tony if he ever tried to enter again. No one needed another HYDRA assassin in the compound, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

“I was getting through to him,” he muttered, long after he’d finished in the gym. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.

“What you did was freak him out,” Tony replied. “Whether you got through to him or not, he couldn’t take it. Don’t go back in there. I’m warning you.”

When Tony visited to deliver a new book, Peter would sometimes want to talk. It was all small talk, saying he liked his lunch or asking when he could change clothes, as his were starting to smell ripe. Tony wanted to get to know the kid, wanted to see through the act and find some common ground. He wanted to know who built his suit – Tony figured he could build a better one – or if he had any memories of his life before the base.

This was a sixteen-year-old kid. Somewhere out there, surely, his family was waiting for him to come home.

“I think we’re too close to this,” Pepper whispered into the darkness. They were lying in bed, had been for hours, but neither had caught an inch of sleep. It was hiding from them, evading and manoeuvring around the bed, just out of their reach.

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I see him, I see a boy who never got to go home,” Pepper said. “I see a family that never got their son back, and a child who doesn’t even remember who they might’ve been. I see _our_ Peter. I see _my son_ never coming back to us. I think about how he might be like this Peter, how he might’ve been used by the Ten Rings to become something he was never meant to be.”

Tony rolled onto his side, stretching out an arm to pull her into him. They held each other then, reaching for an inch of comfort that might not even come to them.

“Tony,” Pepper continued, low. “Sometimes, when I see him, I wonder if he _is_ our Peter.”

“Don’t say that,” Tony said.

“We don’t know-”

“Don’t say that, Pep.”

“Tony.”

“ _Pepper_.”

He could only hear the sound of their breathing. The moment stretched out and Pepper’s fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.

“Peter would be sixteen,” she said.

“ _Pepper_.”

“What’s wrong with hoping?” she asked, her voice a little louder now. “What’s wrong with hoping that our son has come home?”

Tony pulled away. It was only a little, but he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at his wife: the only woman he’d ever fallen in love with. The only person who stayed even in the darkest moments; the only lighthouse he had left amongst all the raging storms.

“I want him back as much as you do,” he said, forcing his voice to come out calm and quiet. “But I don’t think I could handle it if Peter- if _our son_ had been turned into this. If all those years of searching were in the wrong places, and behind our backs our kid was made into a killer we don’t even _recognise_.”

He watched Pepper swallow as her hand reached up to caress his cheek. Her smile was the kind heartbreak was built from and she stretched her fingers out, running them into his hair.

“What if he _was_ our son, though?”

“We shouldn’t think about that. We’d get our hopes up.”

“Tony,” she whispered. “I haven’t had hope for Peter in so long.”

“I don’t want to see your heart get broken again.”

It was later, when sleep was still dancing mockingly just out of their grasps, that she spoke again. “No one could ever replace our son, but this Peter needs a family or he’s never going to be anything other than what they made him.”

This time, Tony didn’t respond.

 

-

 

He watched Pepper with Peter on the monitor. It felt less like eavesdropping when he was doing it for everyone and _besides_ , he was worried about her. Worried about how she was connecting the boy in the prison cell to their missing son.

The case of Peter Stark was open and unsolved. The cops followed lead after lead for months; new ones popping up all the time of potential spottings or possible terrorist organisations. When Tony was taken, the search for Peter increased tenfold. It was a conspiracy; a plot, they said. Obadiah Stane wanted everyone out of the way. He wanted the company, the world at his feet.

The Ten Rings was all but decimated in the year after Tony returned from Afghanistan. He never saw his son once.

He watched the way Pepper sat in the chair, even expression, just watching Peter read. He couldn’t blame her for connecting the two Peters together. He knew she still carried those mock-up photos of what their son might look like today; it had been eleven years and she couldn’t let go of the boy that never came home.

And here was sixteen-year-old Peter, a lost boy Pepper could feel something for.

He understood what she was going through.

Hell, he was going through it himself. But he couldn’t let himself talk to Peter the way she did; couldn’t let himself replace the image of his son with this boy; this child without a family.

“Did you enjoy _To Kill a Mockingbird?_ ” Pepper asked on screen.

Peter’s new book, sitting by his side, was _The Diary of Anne Frank._ Tony was giving him the books he’d enjoyed, ones that might have an effect on him, somehow. He nodded, his blanket pulled around his shoulders as he sat on the floor, close to Pepper – she’d pulled the chair towards the box, too.

“Yeah. I did.” Peter studied his fingers as he spoke. “It sucked how everyone treated Tom Robinson – he deserved better than that. I liked how it was all from the kid’s perspective, too.”

Pepper nodded and tilted her head to the side. “You can ask me things, too, you know.” Peter looked up and she smiled, soft. “If you want to know anything.”

He nodded, more to himself and Tony curled his fingers around the tools in his hands. He’d lost interest in whatever project he was distracting himself with. “There are a few things I’ve been wondering about.”

“I’m all ears.”

Peter shifted and straightened. “Okay, so HYDRA and Nazis. Are they the same thing?”

“Yes,” Pepper said. “They may have been around before Nazis, and they may have separated from them after the war, but their ideologies are the same. HYDRA taught you that Nazis were bad?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah. Kind of. I mean, targeted genocide is bad, even I could tell that.” He took a breath. “Did you and Stark ever have more children?”

Tony squeezed the tools in his hands so tight that the colour drained from his fingers. He dropped them on the counter. “No,” Pepper said. “We talked about it, once, about three years after Peter went missing, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to have another. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing another child; creating a life just to put them in danger. I don’t think we would’ve survived the stress of it, either.”

“Do you still think about him?”

“About Peter? Every day.”

Peter looked down and they were quiet for a moment, as if Pepper was letting Peter mull over the right words to say. She always had a way with people; knowing when to speak and when to listen, when to push and when to relax her grip. After what felt like hours, Peter spoke.

“I think I remember them,” he said.

“Remember who?”

“My parents. I don’t know why I joined HYDRA. I think they gave me up, or maybe they worked for it? I’m not sure. But I have this… _sense_ of them, you know? This feeling that I get when I think about them. It’s warm. There’s always a light. It’s a different feeling than the ones I get when I think about the base – like they were separate from it.” When he looked back up, Pepper moved from her chair, her movements soft and slow. She slipped off her heels before sitting in front of Peter, her legs tucked beneath her.

“Do you miss them?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know how to miss people I don’t know.” Peter’s voice was so quiet Tony struggled to hear him. “I think I loved them, though. I think they loved me.”

“I’m sure they did,” Pepper responded. “I bet they hurt every day you were away. I bet they never stopped searching.”

Tony thought that Peter might’ve been crying, but maybe it was a trick of the light. When Pepper placed her hand against the glass, Peter pressed his, too.

“Do you think they’d still want me if they knew about the things I’ve done?” he asked, and Tony’s bruised and beaten heart struggled to keep pumping.

“I think they’d welcome you home with open arms,” Pepper replied. Tony thought so, too.

 

-

 

There was a change within Peter, somewhere. Tony thought it stemmed from the night Bucky visited, like his eyes were opened to something he couldn’t quite figure out. When Tony next visited, taking the Anne Frank book Peter had left by the slot and replacing it with _The Book Thief_ – at Peter’s request, actually (“Do you have any other books about the war? I just… want to know”) – he didn’t get straight to reading and ignore Tony as he usually did. Instead, he tilted his head and watched Tony straighten and move away.

“Take a picture, kid,” Tony said, “it’ll last longer.”

Peter ducked his head then and reached for the new book. “What is it about?” he asked, turning the novel over in his hands.

“The Nazis would burn books they deemed subversive or opposed to their thinking. It’s about that.”

Peter frowned. “Why did they burn the books?”

“Because literature has a way of changing people,” Tony replied with a shrug. He’d never been big on books, always preferred to make things with his hands and be constantly moving. But he knew what the books were doing to Peter – knew the look in the kid’s eyes when he finished one and learned something that had been hidden from him his whole life. And, Tony figured, the kid was more receptive to learning from the novels. Anything Tony said was tinged with the voice of the enemy. The books were neutral in their war; they’d already made up their minds and Peter couldn’t blame them for it.

Peter fell silent, studying the novel in his hands. As the quiet stretched, Tony made a move for the door. It was only when he reached it that Peter spoke again.

“I want to talk to Barnes,” he said.

Tony sighed, turned to look at Peter. “You know you can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could turn him into a mass-murdering super soldier assassin with only a few words.”

Peter frowned. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said. “I didn’t want to bring out the Winter Soldier – I just wanted him to leave.”

“I know that, kid,” Tony replied. _He was scared. Just a scared kid underneath the mask._ “But it’s a risk we can’t take.”

“I don’t even know all the words,” Peter said. “Only the beginning ones and maybe the last two. I never heard the ones in the middle – they were all in Russian, anyway.”

Still, Tony shook his head. Barnes not being allowed to see Peter again was actually something he agreed with. No matter how much progress Bucky had made, there was still a part of him he couldn’t control – and Peter couldn’t be trusted with it.

“Sorry,” Tony said. “It’s not going to happen.”

Peter let out a huff. “Can I write him a letter?”

 

-

 

Tony read the letter over Bucky’s shoulder, as did Steve, Natasha and Clint. Sam had called dibs to read it next because he didn’t want any of them in his personal space.

“Huh,” Steve said quietly.

Huh, indeed.

 

_Barnes._

_They gave me a pencil and trusted me not to stab my way out of here. It was not sharp. I feel like that was on purpose._

_I’ve been thinking about what you said. How you aren’t what they made you – how I’m not. How I wasn’t given a choice. Part of me doesn’t want you to be right, because that means my life isn’t mine to have, has never been, and that’s fucking depressing. But if you are right, then that means there’s a shot for there to be more than this. More than that suit and the bombs, than the ops and the killings and, well, hydra._

_I don’t know if I want to be what they made me, but I don’t know if I want to be anything else either._

_I didn’t have a choice about the Black Spider. I always thought I had a choice there, when it came to training and my future. I could be any kind of agent I wanted – I liked the fighting, sure, but I liked the science division. I liked working with technology and machines. But in the end, I wasn’t given a choice._

_I was strapped to the table and they got a spider to bite me and I threw up for four days straight – and at one point I’m pretty sure my skin was peeling off, but I can’t be sure. Then I couldn’t be a scientist anymore. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do, because I was the Black Spider and I was going to be everything you failed at being._

_I want a choice, Barnes._

_I know I’ve done some shit and I know I’m in my glass prison and I know at least one of you must’ve seen me take a piss, but I want there to be more than this._

_Parker._

“I don’t know what we do about this,” Steve said when everyone was finished. Sam read the letter next, then gave it back to Bucky, who read it through one more time.

“He wants to be better,” Bucky said at last. “Can’t we give him that?”

Tony tried to picture it; Peter working hard to redeem himself and using his powers for good. There would be check-ups from SHIELD and the Accords would implode again, but the kid could go outside and meet people and have a life away from HYDRA. Maybe, down the line, they could find his family – they could take him back to whatever home he came from and return him to the arms of the parents who had lost him.

It was fanciful, unrealistic, but Tony couldn’t pull away from the thought. He swallowed back the hurt that was rising in his throat. He’d stopped imaging himself as one of those parents, seeing his son in the doorway after so long gone, a long time ago. He hadn’t ever imagined it from the other side.

But he didn’t have a chance to think long, because one moment Bucky was saying he’d like to write a letter back, if he couldn’t see Peter in person, and the next, there was an explosion down the hall.

The wailing sirens of the compound started up, the lights flashing red as the second explosion rocked the building.

“Get your gear!” Steve ordered, as FRIDAY’s voice came through the system.

“There has been an attack on the East and North walls of the compound,” she announced. Tony called his suit to come to him, and a moment later the pieces were flying through the doorway, attaching themselves to his body and connecting, the gears locking and grinding. He looked out the window and paused at the sight.

It was familiar in a painful way. Amongst the smoke and debris, men in black were rushing forward with guns across the lawn. This time, he wouldn’t be taken down so easily. This time, he’d keep everyone safe.

As he thought the words, the universe bit him in the ass. “HYDRA has infiltrated the base,” FRIDAY announced. “Peter has been broken out of his cell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, literature has the power to change people and all that. tony actively uses that to his advantage.
> 
> also: there's a subscribe button if u haven't clicked that yet  
> and your yelling in the comments is keeping me alive. pretty please continue to yell there or alternatively visit my [tumblr](http://tempestaurora.tumblr.com/) and hurl abuse/undying love at me


	6. HYDRA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter's out of his cage and he's doing just fine gotta gotta be down because he wants it all - the killers, kind of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be real with y'all - this was supposed to have 6 chapters. it currently is on target for 8 but i kind of want to add a 9th for the sake of getting another Tony POV over the reveal. so uhhhhhhhhhh, i'll update the chapter thing for NOW to be out of 8 but it might end up being longer than that who knows

_When Liesel left that day, she said something with great uneasiness. In translation, two giant words were struggled with, carried on her shoulder, and dropped as a bungling pair at Ilsa Hermann’s feet. They fell off sideways as the girl veered with them and could no longer sustain their weight. Together, they sat on the floor, large and loud and clumsy._

Peter’s spider sense pulled him away from the book only seconds before the first explosion sounded. He’d caught the next line as it did so but tore his gaze from the pages to the door, still closed. Slowly, he placed one foot on the ground, then the other. Dumping the book behind him, Peter moved forward.

The lighting in the room had turned an alarming shade of red and a siren wailed, repetitive and constant.

“Hello?” he called. “What’s happening?”

Outside the door, he could hear the pounding of feet; running, people, nerves. _Great_ , he thought, _there’s an attack and I’m stuck in a box_.

It was then that the second explosion blew through the wall to his left. Peter’s jittering senses took him to the far side of the box before it did so, though the glass wasn’t damaged. The sight of the rubble was familiar to him, as were the men who peered through and leapt into the room.

They were dressed in black Kevlar, toting guns and masks that covered their faces, helmets protecting their skulls. HYDRA. They stormed the room in an organised way, men pouring in from both sides as one came forward and placed a small device on the glass.

Peter knew what was going to happen before it did, and kicked the bed onto its side, blanket and book flying as he ducked down behind it. This time, he felt the force of the explosion shove him back into the wall. Glass shattered, sprayed, and he took a few breaths before standing and looking at the mess.

“Agent Parker,” the closest agent said. “Come on.”

He did what he was told, jumping out of the box and trying to avoid the shards of glass from cutting him through his socked feet.

“Do you have your suit?” the agent asked as everyone filed out, pointing their guns in all directions. Distantly, Peter could hear the gunfire. Whichever Avengers facility he was in, Peter assumed there would be good security. The only way to do this would’ve been a full-scale assault.

“No,” Peter replied. “They took it from me.”

A hand gun was shoved over to Peter, then, and he took it, grimacing.

Everything moved quickly; too quickly to stop and question the actions, the decisions being made. They had to make their way up the emergency staircase to avoid being trapped by the building’s AI in the elevator, but the gunfire from further up the stairs was telling of the resistance they were receiving.

In the moment they had as they waited for the all clear, Peter thought only one thing: HYDRA cut their losses, always. Leave no man behind was not a mantra worth following to them, and yet they’d mounted an attack on the Avengers to get Peter out.

He was under no illusions that they cared. HYDRA did not care about Peter, they cared about his biology, about the years of gene-editing and serum creation that they had poured into one kid’s veins. They hadn’t yet managed to replicate it for another soldier; it had to be personalised for their DNA. Peter was their super soldier – or, at least, he was their super soldier serum.

Someone shouted the all clear and Peter followed orders, racing up the stairs, surrounded on all sides by agents with guns. He’d been kept in the belly of the compound, it seemed, supposedly the hardest place to reach. And yet-

“Peter!”

He swung his head around to see Mr Good and Righteous himself, slamming an office chair into the head of an agent and round house kicking the next one into unconsciousness. Peter turned away, a rough hand on his arm as he was pulled to their extraction point. A hi-jacked quinjet would be coming for them any minute, he was sure. As long as it stayed in stealth mode, it was untraceable – Peter could disappear, go back to the base, get a new suit.

He’d be debriefed of course; probably blamed for being captured, for the bomb not getting any of the Avengers in its blast, for any classified information they’d assume he gave away, even if he hadn’t.

Peter raised his gun and shot at the suited man who was shooting at him. He caught him in the arm before ducking behind his agents and keeping up his pace.

That was when Iron Man arrived, because that guy always had a sense for terrible timing. The windows of the compound’s ground floor shattered with the laser blasts, and only a moment later, Peter caught sight of Vision, Scarlet Witch and Falcon, flying down from the lower levels.

There had to be a plan for this, right? Because, from Peter’s experience, guys with guns alone were no match for the Avengers.

It was then that the real battle started. Around him, the building shook and crumbled; walls being blown apart with guns and lasers; red, swirling magic curling around the agents and reaching for Peter a little too slow to actually catch him. Then there was the gunfire that wrought havoc on his over-dialled senses, the people appearing and disappearing at a moment’s notice; agents that were sworn to protect the science – sworn to protect Peter and his biology – being shot down, torn apart, bloodied and bruised and becoming corpses at his feet.

He ran harder than he ever had before, his heart pumping so hard in his chest he swore it was going to break through his ribs.

The building shook once more, a loud distant thudding noise, followed by the sound of the architecture failing. Peter turned to his closest window, watching the tanks rolling up to their gates, the quinjet, visible above the building and shooting missiles into the heart of the building. It was a full out assault and Peter couldn’t breathe anymore.

He ducked into an alcove in the corner of an atrium. What he assumed has once been a stylish and sleek lobby was wrecked; debris littered the floor, bodies piled up and everything was splattered with blood and sweat.

Out the window, Iron Man took down the first of the tanks, an explosion erupting in the garden. Peter ducked back behind the wall, checking his gun. He only had two bullets left and that wasn’t enough to get him out of here-

The thought took him for a second. Getting out of here. He didn’t want to be a prisoner, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the base, either. He could run. He could go by himself, disappear and start again. No one needed to know; no one needed to keep an eye on him. Peter knew the tech behind his web shooters; he could rebuild them, get a new suit. He could do what he wanted, go where he wanted to go.

He could go his whole life without having to feel the weight of someone’s death sinking into his chest.

He could spend the rest of his life never killing anyone again.

Once the thought had latched on, Peter didn’t think he would be able to shake it. Going anywhere, being alone, starting over.

“Peter?”

He looked up, searching for the voice, only to find Pepper, standing across the atrium. Her hair was ruffled, her fancy clothes torn and blood-splattered, only wearing one heel and holding the other – broken – in her hand. Peter’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, but he released it when he couldn’t spot an injury.

Since when had he cared about anyone in this building? _No, not anyone. Pepper._

“Peter, you need to get away from there,” she said. “We need to go. This whole building’s gonna go down.”

No one else was in the atrium bar them, and Peter nodded, feeling purpose rise in his throat. He darted across the room to her side, reaching out automatically to help her balance as she yanked off her other heel.

“Tony doesn’t know I’m here,” she said, “or he would’ve sent a suit. I was supposed to be at work.”

“I wish you were,” Peter found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the building had made some attempt at getting to know him, no matter their motives – but Pepper was the only one he liked enough to let them. Somehow, he’d formed some sort of attachment to her through her daily visits, and now he pushed the idea of running from his head. _Later,_ he thought. _Saving Pepper comes first._

“Come on,” he said, and they started off back in the direction she’d emerged from, only to get half way down the hall and find Black Widow single-handedly taking down a cluster of agents. Peter reached blindly, grabbing Pepper’s hand and pulling her the other way.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Pepper asked as they ran.

He shook his head. “Anywhere they aren’t,” he replied. Pepper didn’t ask which side he was referring to with ‘they’ and he was thankful for it. He didn’t really know the answer.

They followed the twisting corridors of the compound, running through rooms that led to more rooms, back out into halls they’d already been through. Peter used the last two bullets of his gun on a HYDRA agent that shouted for them to stop. He didn’t look back or give the action a second thought. There was no time for that.

They ended up stumbling into a large, open space with cracked white walls and towering, broken windows. No matter Peter’s enhancements, his breathing was laboured and Pepper was much further beyond.

“Where are we?” he asked, shutting the door behind them with a final check that they hadn’t been followed.

“Training room,” Pepper heaved. “That’s the only entrance to this floor.”

Peter nodded, understanding what she meant as he looked up at the indoor balcony, jutting out into the room. No one seemed to be up there, but there was another door high up on the wall. Two exits, if he could jump that high with Pepper in his arms.

They took a breather and listened to the gunfire echoing around the building. At some point, Pepper had ditched her shoes entirely, and her hair was beginning to resemble a bird’s nest. Peter had this overwhelming urge to protect her, surging through his body. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been told to protect someone; to keep them alive at all costs and actually _care_ about whether they lived or died.

“Pepper,” he said, low. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay,” she said, nodding. She reached out a hand and cupped Peter’s face for half a second, before it flew back to her side. “You don’t have to know what to do. We just need to get out of here.”

“They’re here for me,” he replied. “They won’t leave without me.”

“The Avengers will make them leave,” she said, confident. “Don’t you worry about that. What matters is keeping you safe.”

Her expression was not the even, confident one that he’d grown to know. She looked flustered, afraid, barely keeping it together, and Peter realised, in a sudden rush, that she was doing that _for him_. If Peter’s priority was keeping Pepper safe, then somehow, Pepper’s priority was him.

“The window,” he said. “We’ll go out the window, into the woods.”

Pepper nodded. “Anything to get out of here.”

They started off towards the wall of windows and Peter took a run at the closest, smashing it with his fist. He swore, shaking out the pain, as the glass rained down. Shards had stuck themselves into his skin but he didn’t care – he could get them out later. Turning to Pepper, he caught her concerned gaze and forced something of a smile.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” he said. “I’ll carry you.”

“You’re not wearing shoes either,” Pepper replied.

Peter looked down to his feet and gave her a nod. “Well, you can’t carry me, so the socks will have to make do.”

He was about to reach for her when a familiar shiver made its way down his spine. He turned to the door they’d come through just in time to see the gunmen enter. They looked worse for wear, but there’s guns were raised and the three of them didn’t seem hesitant.

“Agent Parker,” one said. “We need to make it to the extraction point now or we’re not getting out of here.”

A lump formed in Peter’s throat and he swallowed it. “No,” he said, hoping his voice sounded as firm as he wanted it to.

“Agent Parker,” they warned. “Barnum will hear about your insubordination unless you come with us right now.” He felt like a child being scolded and spite reigned. Peter had always been stubborn, but he’d never known just how stubborn until faced with the people he was supposed to follow.

“Peter,” Pepper whispered. The words came out like a breath, like a _please_ and in the next instant, Peter’s body was moving without him asking it to. He’d always thought about it like trying to kill a spider – it would lie perfectly still, unaware of the ill intent of your boot, ready to squash it, and then in the last second it would dart away, evading death.

That’s how his spider sense worked. He was unaware that he even needed to move until he was already doing it, leaping into Pepper and pulling her to the ground, as the first round of bullets flew into the spot she’d just been standing in.

In an instant, he was up on his feet, running towards the gunfire, flipping and weaving out of the way of the bullets that tore through the air and into the wall of windows. Peter had no time to worry about the glass shattering over Pepper’s prone body, just time to think _I really wish I had my web shooters_ as he leapt onto the first man. The guns were pointed at him now, but he moved too quickly for a good aim.

With the first man, he climbed onto his shoulders, wrapping his legs around the man’s neck and leaning forward, using his momentum to pull the man onto the ground. He rolled away into a crouch, slamming his fist into the second guy’s crotch and straightening to yank his head down into Peter’s knee. The third guy was easy; Peter grabbed his gun and shoved it into the shooter’s face, darting out a foot to catch him behind the ankle. He fell back, all three on the ground. When they surged up again, Peter made sure to knock them out cold with a few choice punches and kicks.

That’s when he felt it.

He’d never had such a strong wave of awareness pulse through him; the spider sense screaming _RUN_ in a way it never had before.

Peter spun to look at Pepper, who was climbing back onto her feet amongst the glass and rubble of the training room.

He knew where he had to be a second before it happened.

Peter sprinted forward as the explosion rattled through the building, right above the training room. In the first millisecond, the ceiling cracked, and in the next, it all came tumbling down.

Pepper barely had time to look up at it before she was back on the floor, screaming. Peter, the building falling all around him, ended up on his knees, skidding to a stop above Pepper’s body; the ceiling falling directly onto his outstretched hands.

The weight of it was immense as it forced itself onto his shoulders. Peter stuck a foot out in front of him for leverage, and on one knee, he felt the blinding kind of pain that told him something was wrong.

He hadn’t felt it earlier, in the heat of the moment, and he didn’t have the chance to look now, but he felt it in his left shoulder, by his right hip.

“Peter,” Pepper said. There were tears welling in her eyes. Peter didn’t want to see her cry.

She reached out a hand towards him and he winced, his arms trembling, as she touched at his waist. Her fingertips came back coated in red and neither had a chance to address it.

“Go!” he shouted, forcing the words out through the pain. “Get out! _GO!_ ”

He knew she was hesitant about leaving him, but she scrambled through the rubble and glass, Peter watching as it shredded through her skin, causing blood to trail behind her. Only when Pepper was out on the grass did Peter acknowledge the black spots dappling his vision, the searing heat in the gunshot wounds, the very real fact that he wouldn’t be able to hold the building up for much longer.

Distantly, he heard Pepper screaming _TONY_. Distantly, there was a shining red and gold in the corner of his vision. Distantly, he heard yelling, maybe even his name.

But that was all too far for Peter to reach. As the building weighed him down, Peter looked at the space where the blood had soaked through his t-shirt.

 _Red,_ he thought. _My favourite colour._

Then his mind turned to the book he’d been reading, now buried in the basement he was living in. Maybe the whole glass box was gone now; maybe the whole room ceased to exist.

He’d caught the next line before the explosions sounded, and it was the only thing he could think of now. The darkness swallowed him whole, the weight of the world collapsing on top of him.

 

_TWO GIANTWORDS_

**_I’M SORRY_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRAY CRAY AM I RIGHT bet y'all didn't see that coming
> 
> the bond between pepper and peter is too often sidelined in fics and in this fic its arguably more important than peter and tony's. the whole "i'm sorry" thing felt reminiscent of the infinity war ending as well as kind of fitting with who peter is gonna become?? like, as he develops away from hydra. idk i just really liked it.
> 
> as a note - i AM considering creating a series for this universe?? so having some one shots surrounding prequels and life after and a possibly buzzfeed unsolved deal on Where Is Peter Stark (gives me an excuse to watch a whole load of that show again). If there is anything in particular that you want to see from this universe, let me know! You can tell me in the comments or let me know on my tumblr (tempestaurora - I can't be bothered to link today) and if i write your idea i'll dedicate the chapter to you or whatever. So just, anything you really wanna see, like dealing with the press after the announcement or peter's To Read list etc etc. (i will create a series for this fic before it ends so you can subscribe to the series and get emails about updates that way)
> 
> throw ideas at me. i want them.
> 
> this is now my most subscribed fic ever which is crazy. thank you guys so much for the encouragement so far, for your lovely words and support - it makes me feel great and makes me wanna write something even better for you guys. anyway! new chapter out tomorrow where Shit Gets Real for Tony.


	7. Our Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> developments and the moment y'all have been waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK IMPORTANT NOTICES:
> 
> 1\. there is officially one more chapter left in this fic after this one. i'm not 100% on it yet, because i've written it but i think i wanna rewrite it as i'm not sure about my ending.  
> 2\. this IS OFFICIALLY part of a series! it's called 'hydra's not a home' - if u wouldn't mind clicking onto the series and subscribing to it, you'll receive emails whenever a new part of the series is added!  
> 3\. hi ryan how are you  
> 4\. if you have an series ideas, please hmu. you can tell me in the comments or on my tumblr (tempestaurora) and i'll credit you if i use it!  
> 5\. thank you for all the pepper/peter love. i'm happy you guys didn't mind being mislead about how much irondad spiderson content there would be in this fic. i promise, there'll be more by the end, and some of the one shots will revolve around them. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy this chapter. peter's been having A Day, and it doesn't stop there. I really hope you guys enjoy.

 Peter Parker was lying on the grass, covered in ash, rubble and debris. His clothes were soaked in red, his knuckles littered with glass, and his eyes firmly shut. Tony could barely hear his shallow breathing after pulling him from the remains of the building.

He and Pepper leaned over the body of the kid, Pepper’s hands frantic and shaking, her eyes wet. Nearby, the Avengers compound was crumbling. There had to be people still inside; had to be people who still _needed help_. But Tony couldn’t move; he just stared at the child before forcing air back into his lungs.

“FRIDAY,” he said, “I need Dr Cho.”

“Dr Cho is in Manhattan,” FRIDAY replied without missing a beat.

“Have her meet me in the medbay of the Avengers Tower. _Now._ ”

“I have forwarded your instructions, Boss.”

Tony’s face plate was down as he stared at the boy, but now he was shaking his head, reaching out to pick the kid up.

“What are you going to do?” Pepper asked, her voice cracking half way through the sentence.

“Get him help.” Tony slid an arm beneath Peter’s knees and another under his back before straightening. The kid didn’t make a noise. “Get out of here, Pepper,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the tower, okay?”

Pepper nodded, her eyes darting about the scene. There was still gunfire in the distance, flames licking up the sides of the building, lasers and magic and bullets spraying across the scene.

“Save him,” is all she said before he lifted off, his face plate lowering and thrusters on full power as he flew towards the tower.

“FRI, scan the kid. I want to know everything there is to know about him right now.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Buildings shuttered into his vision; skyscrapers there one moment and behind them the next, the city passing him by in the time it took for his heart to beat. Then: “I have a full diagnostic report on Peter Parker. Where would you like me to start?”

“Injuries.”

“Two bullet wounds to the left shoulder and right hip. Glass protruding from right knuckles. Bruising across the body, a fractured right wrist and broken right leg.” _Bullet wounds, bullet wounds, bullet wounds_.

The suit wouldn’t fly any faster but Tony tried to wish it into doing so. HYDRA was there for Peter. HYDRA had come and killed to get their agent back – to get a _kid_ back. Tony had already known there was something special about his biology – about the spider bite, his flexibility, strength, ability to climb on walls. It was no wonder they wanted him back, but Tony had thought he was safe. With all the security and precautions of the compound, Tony had thought they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Tony had thought wrong.

He looked down at the unconscious boy in his arms; he looked so peaceful, as if he were asleep. It was hard to ignore the growing red patches on his shirt – Tony had been in such a rush he hadn’t even tried to stop the bleeding.

“FRI, divert all power to the thrusters.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony felt the suit pick up speed and soon enough he was nearing the empty Avengers Tower. He’d moved everything out to the compound when it had been built, but never sold the tower off. Tony had wanted New York to be safe in the event of an attack (at least he did _something_ right), but had kept the tower in case of an emergency.

Like this one.

Like HYDRA storming the gates and destroying the hospital wing.

Like Peter, a dead weight in his arms, bleeding out.

For a split second before he reached the tower, Tony’s mind leapt away from him. Back to Pepper saying that the boy needed a family, that maybe they could _be_ that family. He swallowed, forced the thought away – that kind of thinking would only lead to a road of heartbreak.

On the sixty-fifth floor, a window slid open and Tony flew through, landing in the medbay of the tower. Already there were three nurses that worked under Dr Cho, but he couldn’t see her anywhere.

“She’s almost here,” the closest nurse promised. “Put him on the bed.”

Tony did as he was told, lying the boy down on the bed and moving aside as the nurses stepped in to evaluate his injuries. Once again, FRIDAY rattled off the list and they got to work, cutting away his t-shirt to reveal the gore on his skin.

Tony ditched the Iron Man suit in the corner and collapsed into a chair to watch. Minutes later, Dr Cho herself strode into the room, demanding an update on the patient. He could barely follow the words being thrown around about the bullets sitting inside his body, about the holes showing signs of beginning to close on their own, about the smaller shards of glass sealed beneath the skin of his knuckles.

“Peter Parker shows signs of rapid healing,” FRIDAY informed them. “The only logical conclusion is that it has stemmed from being bitten by an enhanced spider.”

Dr Cho waved FRIDAY away, talking too quickly for Tony to keep up with. There was no a mask over Peter’s face, an IV line in his arm, and he’d been hooked up to a heart monitor, so the slow, lazy thud of his pulse echoed across the room.

“We need to perform a blood transfusion,” Dr Cho announced. “He’s already lost too much and extracting the bullets will only lose more.”

One of the nurses piped up, “We don’t keep blood in the tower. We’ll have to request it from a nearby hospital.”

Tony’s heart lurched as Dr Cho swore. “There’s not time for that. FRIDAY, do you have any information on his blood type?”

“Peter Parker’s blood type is A. I can do a scan of all persons in the building and find a possible donor if you’d like.”

“Do it.”

As FRIDAY scanned the building – there were still minor Stark Industries offices and labs on the lower floors, as well as two museum floors open to the public – Tony’s phone rang. He picked it up with a muttered curse, not checking the caller ID.

“Tony!” Sam’s voice shouted down the line. “I just saw Pepper – do you have the kid? Is he okay?”

“We’re at the tower,” Tony replied, shuffling to the doorway of the room. He watched as Dr Cho and her staff moved about Peter’s bed, responding to whatever emergencies the kid was throwing at them. They seemed to be clamping back the skin of the bullet wounds, forcing them to stop closing on themselves. It made Tony want to throw up his lunch. “Peter’s being operated on – he got shot.”

“Yeah, Pepper mentioned. She said he saved her life. More than once.”

 _Pepper_. She hadn’t shown any injuries, but a shudder rolled through his body at the thought of her getting hurt. He hadn’t been there to protect her, but-

But Peter had been. The kid had held up the fucking building to stop it from crushing her.

If ( _when_ ) he made it out of this, Tony was going to give him a bigger box to live in.

“Is everyone else okay? Did everyone make it out?”

“All Avengers are alive,” Sam replied. “Civilians, staff – not so much. Nat’s leg is crushed from the ceiling falling on her and Wanda’s getting patched up now. We’re sending the casualties your way – there’s nothing of the building left, especially the hospital wing.”

“FRIDAY can call in the other medical staff,” Tony replied. He hadn’t seen Nat throughout the battle – she must’ve been inside. Wanda, though, he’d seen soaring through the sky and flipping the tanks over with her glowing red hands.

Still, his mind darted straight back to Pepper, thankfully uninjured and still alive. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the building today. She was supposed to be out for meetings all afternoon, but suddenly there she was on the grass, bare foot in torn clothes, screaming his name.

His heart had lurched at the sight of her, but she hadn’t given him even a breath before screaming at him to get Peter, to save him, to do _something_ because that building was coming down and he was already on his knees, passing out. He’d only had a split second to fly forward and pull the kid’s prone body from the wreckage, but the ceiling had come down too fast. Tony hadn’t needed to hear the bone snapping in his leg under the weight to know it had.

Tony hung up the phone as FRIDAY’s voice filtered back over the system, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts.

“I have located three potential blood donors in the building,” she announced.

“Who’s the closest?” Dr Cho asked. Her nurses were rushing about the room, turning it into a makeshift surgery theatre, as she pulled on a face mask and gloves.

“Boss is,” FRIDAY replied.

Dr Cho turned to him and Tony’s eyes widened. Admittedly, he didn’t know his blood type. That’s what Pepper was for.

“Get over here,” Cho ordered.

“What?”

“Do you want this kid to live?” she asked. Tony nodded, dumbfounded. “Then get over here.”

His feet moved without him asking them to, and suddenly he was being shoved in the next bed over by a nurse, a needle jammed into his arm, connected to a series of tubes. They stuck a matching needle in Peter’s arm and taped them both down.

He’d never given blood before, but now he watched as the tubes slowly turned red as his blood poured into Peter’s body. Tony tried to keep up with the surgery, but too much happened to know what was going on. The nurses moved around a lot, Dr Cho spent time searching for the bullets and prying them out, discussing the damage done inside Peter’s body and how, minutes later, it already seemed to be improving.

Half way through, Peter awoke with a gasp. His hands clawed at the mask over his face, the nurses rushing forward to hold him down as he yelled, incoherent.

“Don’t!” he shouted, fear pouring from his mouth. Peter’s eyes were wide and crazed as he searched the room for a familiar face. “I don’t want it!” he yelled, before meeting Tony’s panicked gaze.

The mask was forced back onto his face, the dosage increased, and soon enough Peter was falling back into his shaky unconsciousness, his eyes not once leaving Tony.

Time wore on and Tony felt the exhaustion seep through his skin, but he refused to sleep until Peter was out of the dark. So he watched, keeping an eye on Peter’s soft, peaceful face, and waited as Dr Cho finally began stitching up the wounds on his torso. Another nurse had reset his leg and wrist, placing them in casts during the surgery, and at the end, Tony watched as they pried the glass shards from his knuckles, making small incisions to cut the buried ones out.

Only then did Dr Cho turn to him and smile.

“Sleep,” she said. “The boy’s advanced healing should take care of the rest. If you don’t mind, Tony, I would like to study him when he is better – learn more about his biology.”

Tony nodded, fighting against his brain for the sleep he craved so desperately. The needle was still in his arm, but he’d lost the feeling of pain a long time ago, so he took one last look at Peter before letting his eyes shut fully.

Before he fell asleep, Pepper’s voice slipped into his mind, soft and comforting. _What’s wrong with hoping that our son has come home?_ So much was wrong with it, but Tony couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but feel something content settling in his chest over Peter being safe. _His boy,_ he thought. _Peter._

 

-

 

When he awoke, he saw Pepper.

She was smiling, her hair clear of the debris that had been littered there previously, in new, cleaner clothes. He felt her hand in his, squeezing gently as she leaned on the bed to get a better look at him.

“Rise and shine,” she said, her voice a whisper. Her smile was soft and Tony had the urge to reach out and touch it. So he did; his fingers grazing across her lips to feel whatever emotion she was. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Like I’m down a few pints of blood,” Tony replied. Pepper caught his swaying hand and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. “How’s Peter?”

 _Peter_. He’d had a dreamless sleep, but one with a wave of memory, washing over him. He hadn’t seen his son, small and afraid, the day the men came to take him, but Tony had felt the feeling of it all, heard it trickle over his consciousness and drift back out to sea. He had to remind himself, then, that this Peter, in the bed next to him, wasn’t the same Peter he lost. His son hadn’t come home, yet he turned his head to the side to watch as this new Peter slept soundly in his bed.

“Helen thinks he’ll be awake soon,” Pepper said. “You’ve been asleep a few hours. She looked through the report you have of Peter’s abilities and found an improved metabolism and enhanced healing among them. They had to up his dose about an hour ago to keep him asleep for a bit longer.”

Tony studied the boy next to him; his hair was sweaty and dirty, pushed away from his face. His right leg was elevated and sealed in a cast, but the nurses had pulled a blanket over him, and the heart monitor on the far side kept a safe, strong pace. He shut his eyes to listen to the rhythmic beeps; they came one after another, promising a heart that kept working.

“Are you okay?” he asked Pepper a moment later.

She nodded. “I’m fine. Peter saved me.”

“He did?” He remembered Sam saying so on a call. That felt like a long time ago.

“He covered me when they shot at us,” she told him. “Took down three HYDRA agents and caught the building when it fell on me. He saved my life.”

Knowing it and hearing it from Pepper were two different things. He had context to the claims, was suddenly struck by the fact that _Pepper_ , his _wife_ , had been shot at in a place she was supposed to be safe – but Peter, the kid they’d locked up in a cell after detonating a bomb that made a crater out of a forest, _he’d saved her._

He owed Peter more than just a bigger box to live in. He owed Peter his life.

As they waited for the kid to wake up, Tony and Pepper sat side by side on the bed and talked in hushed voices about the day they’d had. About how Nat was doing, down the hall (she was sleeping through the pain, but Cho was confident she’d be fighting again in a matter of months), Wanda next door (the bullets had only grazed her, and she was trying to teach Vision a card game she played when she was little), and the team, who were still cleaning up the mess HYDRA had made.

No HYDRA agents had been found alive, by the end of the battle. Their quinjet had escaped, surely with agents onboard, but everyone on the ground had been killed or caught underneath the building. Underneath their home.

Tony didn’t want to move back to the city, he didn’t want to put Manhattan in danger if anything else came after them. He tried to picture the day’s attack if they’d been at Avengers Tower but could only see screaming civilians and burning buildings. And, for a moment, the image of Peter trying to hold up eighty floors of building, to keep it from crushing Pepper.

No, they were not moving back to the city.

Eventually, however, Peter woke up.

It was slow, as he shifted and moaned at the back of his throat, trying to pull himself from a drug-induced haze. When Tony moved to stand, Pepper placed a hand on his arm and shook her head, her eyes not leaving the boy the whole time. They waited, in silence, as his eyes began to flicker open and he took in the room. A twist in Tony’s gut told him that this Peter woke up in a similar way to the Peter he’d raised; drifting in sleep and washing up on the shoreline of consciousness, taking his time to full emerge from the waters.

His gaze floated across the room before landing on the couple. Tony watched his eyes shine with recognition.

“Pepper?” Peter asked, his voice hoarse and barely louder than a whisper.

Pepper’s face cracked into a bright smile as she slipped off the bed and moved to Peter’s side. “Hey, Peter,” she said, her voice as quiet as it had been when talking to Tony. He watched her hand run across his forehead, swiping away the stray hairs. He watched Peter smile.

“You’re okay.”

“I am,” Pepper replied. “You saved me.”

“I did?” When she nodded, his smile widened. “I’ve never saved anyone before.”

 

-

 

Peter fell asleep again soon after, this time off his own accord, rather than from the medicine. Pepper took it to mean he felt safe there. “He wouldn’t have fallen asleep if he didn’t,” she said with a knowing smile.

They left his bedside for a little while to check on the team and the clean-up issues. Pepper received a phone call estimating the damages to the compound (“ _Approximately_ ,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “ninety-nine percent destroyed _._ ” “They might as well just say it’s all gone,” Tony replied, briefly imagining the single bathroom left standing amongst the wreckage), and Tony sent an intern off to get some new clothes for Peter to change into later.

Soon enough, however, they returned to his bedside, pulling up chairs and settling in to keep watch as he slept.

“Maybe you’re right,” Tony told Pepper in a low tone. “Maybe the kid’s gonna need a family to get through this – people he can depend on.” He didn’t want to look at Pepper, but he caught the look on her face in his periphery.

“You think we could be that family?” she asked.

They felt a connection to this kid and, through him, to the one they’d lost. Tony found that he liked having that connection again, _wanted_ to feel close to the son he hadn’t felt close to in a decade.

“We could definitely try,” Tony replied. “After this mess, we’re going to need somewhere safer to hide him – he’s not going to SHEILD, but we’re going to need help to show him what HYDRA did to him, to give him a shot at something normal.”

“He can walk on the ceiling,” Pepper responded. “He’ll never be normal. But I understand what you’re saying. We can figure it out. He’ll be here for observation for another day or two, so we have time to find somewhere else for him to stay.” She let out a sigh. “I believe in him, I do – but what if he doesn’t want to change?”

Tony thought back to the letter he sent Barnes; the letter that was either smouldering beneath the wreckage of the compound or crushed into tiny pieces under the bricks. “He does,” Tony promised. “He’s just not sure who he wants to be when he does change.”

They fell silent again for a while until FRIDAY spoke up. When she did, she did so with a quiet voice. “Boss, Dr Cho has asked me to send you the details of Peter’s scans. Both the one I performed during transit and the one based on his bloodwork.” Tony sighed and pulled out his phone, the screen automatically opening up onto the files that he’d been sent. “She said you should read them thoroughly – you may find interest in them.”

Tony did as told, for lack of anything better to do. Occasionally, he’d mention something to Pepper about the kid’s increased metabolism, the way his DNA was altered and not fully human, how interesting it was that he could still receive blood from Tony, when his blood was not the same as it used to be.

And then he reached the bloodwork and Dr Cho’s notes and his heart stopped. He felt it stop beating before kicking itself back into gear, the shrapnel in his chest not killing him just yet.

“Tony?” Pepper whispered. “What is it?”

On the screen was a table of Peter’s genetic markers, and by their side, Tony’s.

Pepper craned her neck to look at the screen and frowned, tugging Tony’s hand so she could get a closer look.

“FRIDAY,” Tony said, his voice sounding as if he hadn’t used it in days. “What is this?”

“That is a table comparing the genetic markers in-”

“ _Why_ was this compared?” Tony interrupted.

“I noticed the similarities during the scans and suggested to Dr Cho that the test should be run.” FRIDAY had noticed during the scan? He remembered her taking a full diagnostic report – he’d only been interested in Peter’s injuries.

“Tony,” Pepper said, low. “What does this mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“I need you to say it.”

The words were lodged in his throat. They threatened to suffocate him. Still: “That’s Peter.” He heard Pepper’s breathing become harsh as they looked over at the sleeping figure.

“That’s _Peter_ ,” she said. “ _Our_ Peter.”

“Our Peter,” he repeated.

Pepper covered her mouth to stifle the first sob that wracked through her body, her fingers clawing at her cheek as the tears welled over. Tony didn’t look away from the boy when he reached out for her, pulling her close and tightening his embrace around her body. She shook in his arms – or maybe that was him. Maybe that was Tony shaking, trembling, quivering and the sheer _prospect_.

“He’s home,” Pepper said, her face pressed into the space between his neck and shoulder. “He’s finally come home.”

_Peter’s home. Peter’s home. Peter’s home._

“Yeah, Pep,” Tony whispered, the first tear sliding down his cheek, lonesome and slow. “Our boy’s come home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooooooooo how u guys doin'?  
> did u have a nice week?  
> how are ur pets doing?
> 
> this is actually the longest chapter yet - 3.9k, only beaten by the final chapter which currently stands at 5k. tony and pepper's happiness means the world to me.
> 
> (ur love and support is the best thing about this fic and i appreciate every one of you thank u for every comment and kudos and subscription i hope you guys enjoy the finale tomorrow - i'll get one shots posted asap i promise)


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL DO NOT KNOW THE TROUBLE I HAVE HAD WITH THIS FINAL CHAPTER.
> 
> Like, this is my third draft. It's 5k. My other drafts were 5 and 6.5k. I have written SIXTEEN THOUSAND WORDS OF THIS CHAPTER IN THE LAST TWO DAYS. I AM SO EMOTIONALLY DRAINED. This update comes 2.5 hours after I said I would post it. At least it's here though, right?
> 
> Anyway, it's time for the end. Thank you to everyone who has been here since day one, and to everyone who joined along the way: thank you for taking a risk on a Peter Stark Hydra AU fic that claimed daily updates that no one truly believed would actually happen. (They did, suck it.) I worked so fucking hard on this fic and I'm so happy to see you guys enjoying it and becoming emotionally invested in these characters.
> 
> If you haven't already, you can subscribe or bookmark the series 'hydra's not a home' and receive emails whenever i post new fics to this series.
> 
> Thank you so much. Enjoy the end.

Though no one else in the room knew it, Peter Parker was awake.

Peter Parker had also heard too much.

There was a table comparing the genetic markers between Peter and Stark – that’s how doctors determined paternity claims. Even a single non-matching marker meant there was a 0% chance of them being related, but-

_That’s Peter._

_Our Peter._

_Out boy’s come home._

He kept his eyes shut, trying to keep his body relaxed as he listened to their conversation. He hadn’t meant to, but the sound of voices had pulled him from his slumber, right to the surface, and the was nothing to listen to other than their hushed discussion.

Apparently, he’d come home.

Had he? Were they his home? Were they supposed to be?

Peter’s thoughts were racing, but he settled on trying to picture his parents from before HYDRA. The memories were non-existent; just the faint sense of warmth and light, the feeling of gentle hands.

Was that them? Were the feelings of Pepper and Stark?

Peter had spent his whole life just trying to remember, just wondering who they were to give him to HYDRA. For the longest time, he’d imagined his parents as HYDRA agents, sending him away to be properly initiated – or maybe they were rebels, and he was taken from them to prove a point. Other times, he imagined himself as a lost child, no family to speak of, and an agent deciding to take him in.

The image of sunlight hair and sandy beaches returned as he searched. Of the bluest ocean he could think of; of a yellow-lit workshop. Were these flashes of them, too? Was he home?

Home, a strange concept to Peter, yet not a foreign one.

He preferred the feeling of home he had when he thought of his memories, rather than home as a place he could be separated from. Home, when he called on it, was warm and golden; it was blurry and distant but it always enveloped him in good feelings all the same.

Through that sense of contentment, he heard Pepper’s muffled sobs, as if she was trying to avoid waking him. She was crying over him – or, at least, who he was once, never got to be. In the glass box, he’d once asked her if his parents would even want him, if he found them again.

_I bet they hurt every day you were away. I bet they never stopped searching. I think they’d welcome you home with open arms._

He knew Pepper was talking from experience; that no matter who her son had become, she wanted him back, because he was hers. But that’s who Peter was now (had always been?) – he was the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, at least biologically. And she was crying – which Peter desperately didn’t want to listen to.

He, honestly, just wanted to go home.

He wanted to fall back into the feeling, because there was no physical place for him to run to – that escape plan felt so far off and distant, he wondered if he would’ve ever managed to go through with it. Peter wanted to rest, but sleep wasn’t going to return to him now, and he wanted peace – but how could he have peace when HYDRA would continue to hunt him, and he’d missed ten years with his family?

_Family._

Peter opened his eyes. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice hoarse.

At the end of the bed, where Pepper and Stark sat in their chairs, they jumped, peering over to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pepper whispered, swiping the back of her hand against the tear trails. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Peter lied. “I was waking up anyway.”

The couple shared a glance and Peter searched for resemblance – he supposed, in the generic way, Peter shared the same colouring as Tony Stark; skin, eyes, hair. Maybe a similar mind too; Peter had always been intelligent, and it wouldn’t surprise him if that’s where he got it from. With Pepper, it was more difficult; they had similar shaped eyes and he recognised her smile to be a reflection of his own – maybe she was the one that gave him the stabs of empathy in his chest; the ones he got when he knew he was doing the wrong thing but went through with it anyway.

Maybe Tony Stark had crafted his head and Pepper Potts had carved out his heart, and Peter had spent ten years forgetting everything they’d taught him.

“How are you feeling?” Stark asked. Peter pretended he didn’t see his biological father rub his hand at his face to hide whatever dampness had been there.

“Okay,” Peter replied. “I don’t feel much of anything with whatever drugs you’ve got me on.” He fiddled with one of the tubes attached to him; one of many, it seemed, with the various machines standing beside his bed.

“They had to up the dosage while you were out,” Stark told him. “Your body metabolises it all too quickly.”

Peter nodded. Sounded about right.

The room lapsed into silence and Peter wondered if he was supposed to ask – if he was supposed to tell them what he’d heard, or just wait to be told. He didn’t want to say out loud that he was nervous; afraid of the prospect of having a family or a house, or somewhere without the rules and five AM starts of a facility base. He’d only ever had structure – cruel, demanding structure, but structure all the same.

So Peter let his nerves win out and he didn’t bring it up, instead shifting when he got comfortable and wanted to sit up (Stark pointed to the remote that changed the angle of the bed), and rapping his knuckles against the temporary cast around his wrist.

“You heal fast, right?” Stark asked, leaning forward in his chair. Peter wondered if Stark was repressing the news, because when he’d woken up his biological father had forced back a smile at the sight of him. Now, he was all business, because it was probably easier to focus on than whatever Peter was supposed to be. When Peter nodded, Stark carried on. “How long do broken bones take?”

Peter shrugged. “A few hours, usually. There’ll be an ache for like a day, but the bone will be fine.”

“And gunshots?”

Peter winced, remembering the red stains. “A day, maybe a little longer?” Peter pointed at his elevated leg and asked how it happened, Stark telling him about the building that Peter barely remembered holding up, and how it crushed the bone when it fell.

As Peter tried to remember the day he’d had, images burst into being: Pepper, holding a high heel in her hand across a trashed atrium; the weight of the world on his shoulders, too heavy for him to carry; Stark, in a bed beside him, long red tubes connecting them together.

Peter looked over – there was the bed. On it was a pile of folded, fresh clothes, and between the two beds, a machine. There was no red tube jutting into his arm anymore, but he looked over to Stark, anyway.

“You gave me blood,” Peter said.

Stark looked surprised. “Yeah. You were down a few pints.”

Peter wanted to say thank you but didn’t, nodding and studying his hands instead. There was a temporary cast on his wrist, and he pulled it away from his knuckles to peer at the skin there. The cuts had vanished, leaving behind nasty purple bruises. He’d shattered a window with his fist in an attempt to save Pepper.

She looked fine; clean and unharmed. Peter was glad it wasn’t for nothing.

The three talked mainly in small talk; Black Widow had a broken leg, Scarlet Witch had been shot in the arm. The compound was destroyed, and many HYDRA agents and compound staff members were caught beneath the rubble, being pulled out by search and rescue and unharmed Avengers.

He thought there would’ve been more to talk about.

“What happens next?” Peter asked, his voice quiet after a long stretch of silence. He’d been peering out the window for a while, Pepper had been answering emails on her phone and Stark had disappeared into his own head.

“We’re getting a new place to hide you,” Stark replied, snapping out of his daze. “Higher security, more hidden – if HYDRA comes after you again, we’re gonna show them it’s not worth it.”

Pepper nodded. “I think I’ve found a place in Manhattan to stay for a few weeks; it’s lowkey and I think I could have the sale pushed through by the morning. From there, we’d need another place like the compound, away from the city.”

Peter forced a scoff. “Is it big enough for another glass box?”

The two exchanged glances before Stark replied. “We were thinking about just keeping you in the building. You could go wherever you wanted inside-”

“I don’t have to piss on camera anymore?” Peter asked.

Pepper snorted and then pretended she didn’t, and Stark tried to stop himself from smiling. “Kid, no one watched you pee,” he promised. “That’s really weird-”

“I was on _camera_ ,” Peter insisted. “I didn’t know who was watching.”

“FRIDAY,” Stark prompted.

“All cameras are installed with the Black Box Protocol for censoring. No one watched you urinate, Mr Parker.”

It was strange that it was a load off of his mind. Peter nodded, smiling and looking back out the window. All of New York stretched out before them; the sun setting in the distant horizon and the lights flickering on.

Peter, in the deep hidden caves of his mind, thought that it didn’t sound so bad, hiding out in Manhattan for a while. He was still a prisoner, in some sense of the word – but he didn’t expect otherwise. He had been HYDRA for two thirds of his life; it wouldn’t all go away in a week because of a few good books and some interesting people.

When a man in a suit poked his head into the room (Stark called him ‘Happy’, and Peter questioned why a grown man would have such a name for himself), the couple were called to urgent business with the compound, the clean-up and, it seemed, the press, who had too many questions.

“We’ll be back later,” Pepper promised. “If you need anything at all – no matter how small – just ask FRIDAY and she’ll have it sorted.”

Stark nodded. “Do you want us to bring anything back with us?”

Peter hesitated, then said, “I never got to finish _The Book Thief_.”

 

-

 

The house Pepper found was a nondescript building on the edge of Manhattan near the Bronx. It was situated on a street of warehouses and apartment buildings, and Peter sat in the back seat of a black Audi, driven by the man everyone insisted on calling Happy.

He didn’t have any belongings, other than the book he clutched in his hands, and Stark – Tony? – led them inside. It was three floors, with the bottom one already kitted out as some makeshift workshop. Pepper found Peter a bedroom on the third floor; it was mostly bare, bar the bed, desk and wardrobe, and Peter placed his book on the pillow where he’d be sleeping.

Peter had tried to feign surprise and indifference when he learned that Stark and Pepper would be staying there, too – they had said it was for his protection and safety, but Peter doubted that. He knew they wanted to be close to him but he didn’t acknowledge that out loud.

On the first day, Stark gave Peter a red watch with a small screen – once he put it on, it locked in place and didn’t come off.

“Internal tracker,” Stark supplied when Peter looked over to him. “Monitors heart rate, vitals – it lets me keep an eye on you.”

“Ah,” Peter said, waving the watch around a little. “I almost forgot I was a prisoner.”

“Prisoner’s a harsh word,” Stark replied.

“Captive,” Peter supplied. Stark made a face. “Inmate. Hostage. Detainee-”

“Detainee sounds better than _hostage_.”

Peter cracked a smile. “I prefer jailbird, if I say so myself.”

Stark rolled his eyes, turning around to the desk he was standing by in the workshop. Stark and Dr Cho (who, apparently, saved his life) had wanted to test his abilities and biology, as if he hadn’t been tested his entire life. When Peter had pulled a face at the thought, remembering the weekly blood tests and analyses, Stark had turned it into a game.

“Fetch,” he said, throwing the small, metallic ball in his hand. Peter huffed and watched as it slowed and hovered in mid-air, the mechanism inside whirring quietly as it raised to the ceiling.

“I’m not a dog,” Peter replied, reluctantly placing his hands on the wall and climbing up to the ceiling.

“Sure you are,” Stark replied. “Jaildog – has a much nicer ring to it than detainee.”

“Jailspider,” Peter suggested, reaching the ceiling and crawling upside down to the ball. He grabbed it from where it hovered before releasing his hands from the ceiling and straightening out until he was standing upside down.

“Did you choose the name Black Spider?” Stark asked.

Peter shook his head. “Nah. Some agents decided. It was the code name for the project, anyway, so they decided to use it as my alias.” Peter leaped from the ceiling, flipping in mid-air and landing on the ground.

“Show off,” Stark said, catching the ball as Peter threw it back.

 

-

 

On the third day, two heavy boxes arrived at the door. Pepper signed for them and Peter carried them in, not struggling against the weight. He placed them on the dining table and raised his eyebrows.

“What are these?”

“Books,” Stark – _Tony_ – said, entering the room. “You said you’d finished yours and wanted something else to read. Well…” He gestured to the boxes and Peter ripped them open, finding them full, stacked from top to bottom. He swallowed at the thought Tony had put into it. They were every kind, from fiction to text books, manuals and biographies. He caught sight of classics, sci-fi, crime. “You don’t really have a taste for what you like yet,” Tony explained, “so I thought I’d get you a mix.”

Peter sat on the dining room table, rummaging through the books with Pepper. Eventually, she pulled one out.

“Oh, this was my _favourite_ when I was your age.”

She handed it over. _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen. “What’s it about?” Peter asked, studying the cover.

“It’s a period romance about a man falling desperately in love with the woman who hates him.”

Peter snorted. “Sounds good.”

(It was.)

 

-

 

On day seven, Barnes visited.

“Jeez, kid,” he said. “Call me Bucky.”

Tony laughed. “He still calls me Stark sometimes.”

“Bucky,” Peter said. He was sitting in the living room with the novel _The Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy_ on his lap. Peter didn’t understand why the adults in his life had strange names – first Happy, now Bucky – but he didn’t say that out loud. “Did your parents really name you Bucky?”

Barnes – _Bucky_ – laughed. “Nah, my parents named me James. It was everyone else that called me Bucky.”

He was allowed in Peter’s space again, after Peter swore on his life that he didn’t know all the trigger words and wouldn’t use the ones he did. They must’ve started to trust him since The Compound Incident, because it only took two days of promising he’d be good for Bucky to visit. Still, he noticed, they had to have a chaperone with them at all times.

“You into movies, kid?” Bucky asked, landing heavily on the sofa next to him.

Peter shrugged – he’d only been reading books all week. “I think I saw _Footloose_ once.”

“God, HYDRA are the _worst_ ,” Bucky said, prompting a laugh from Peter. “They show you one movie and they make it _Footloose_? It’s like they’re _trying_ to make you evil!”

“What would you know about good movies?” Peter asked, chucking the book onto the coffee table and slouching back into the sofa.

“What would I know? Well, kid, I’ve been catching up on everything I missed, so I’ve seen just about every blockbuster in the last twenty years. Hey, Tony?”

“Yeah, Barnes?” Tony called from the kitchen.

“The kids needs a movie education. What do you recommend?”

There was a pause before Tony replied, “ _Star Wars_. He’d enjoy that.”

Bucky instructed the film _A New Hope_ to play, and the TV across the room lit up. Peter hesitated before asking, “Hey, Bucky? Is there a _Pride and Prejudice_ movie?”

Bucky smiled in a way Peter would later determine to be fond. “Yeah. Steve’s really into that romance stuff – I watched it one time and it’s pretty good.”

Peter made a note to watch it with Pepper.

(They did. Pepper cried.)

 

-

 

On day thirteen (he kept count), Director Fury visited. He didn’t stay for long, just checked Peter was still breathing, made Tony promise to send over any notes about his biology for safe keeping, and to inform SHIELD if Peter happened to mention anything interesting or helpful regarding HYDRA – he hadn’t said these last two things with Peter present, but Peter could hear everything in the building if he listened hard enough.

After Fury left, Tony shouted, “Hey, kid, you have anything interesting or helpful regarding HYDRA?”

Peter lowered himself from his perch on the ceiling and dropped to the floor. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, bases, locations, tactics?”

Peter shrugged. “They’re building a bunch of bombs out in Nebraska and calling it a dooms day device, if that’s what you’re after.”

Tony huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, genius, that’s what we’re after. FRIDAY, call Fury, get him back here.” He looked to Peter, incredulous, before walking past him and back towards the front door, to look for Fury. “Did you think that wasn’t relevant?”

“You never asked!” Peter called after him.

 

-

 

Everyone was still pretending that Peter staying with Tony and Pepper Stark was best for his safety, and not because they cared about him. Peter didn’t point out that there were better ways to keep him safe, just like he never mentioned that he liked their company.

 

-

 

“Mr Good and Righteous,” Peter greeted.

Rogers sighed. “Seriously, Peter. It’s Steve.”

“Yes, of course, Steve. Mr Good and Righteous is your father.”

 

-

 

Black Widow came in on crutches. She seemed annoyed that they’d both broken a leg and Peter was up and about without problem.

“What I’d do for your healing powers,” she muttered, relaxing back into the sofa.

“If you’re up for nausea, hallucinations and possible death, I could probably get the spider for you.”

“No thanks,” Nat replied, as Clint, who came in behind her, frowned.

“You know where the spider is?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. “I mean, the one that bit me is dead – but they were making more.”

Across the room, Tony paused. “There are more radioactive spiders out there?” he asked.

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

“And you know where they are?”

“I mean, yeah. I know where the base is.”

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”

Peter shrugged, collapsing onto the sofa next to Nat, ready to ask her about her favourite movie and have FRIDAY play it (he’d watched all of the _Star Wars_ movies twice since Bucky first visited). “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Didn’t think- _Peter._ ”

 

-

 

Peter knew they were supposed to move to another location, but they didn’t. They upped the security of the house, all the neighbours signed NDAs and Peter kept himself hidden inside, as if he wasn’t even there. He liked the house; it was still a little bare, but pleasantly lived in, and he figured he’d like wherever they moved next.

“The compound’s gonna take a while,” Tony told him. They were all still pretending that Peter wasn’t Tony’s son, as if that connection didn’t exist. Tony just cared about the kid, was all. Peter never opened his mouth to dispute it. “It’ll be better and more secure than last time. I had an Iron Suite, too – it was like an apartment within the building, separate from the other Avengers.”

“And I’ll live there?”

Tony nodded. He was building something, or fixing something, Peter wasn’t sure. Tony let him into the workshop whenever he wanted and Peter messed around with the machines. They brought the robot DUM-E from the tower, and Peter liked playing with it. In the back of his head, Peter felt glimpses of the past; of fixing hands and creating new things. Maybe he spent a lot of time in Tony’s lab when he was little.

He wanted it to be the case.

“Yeah, where I can keep an eye on you,” Tony replied.

“As if I’ve ever done a bad thing in my life that would warrant suspicion,” Peter drawled, fiddling with the web shooters in his hands. The originals had been crushed, so he’d built new ones. The web formula was coming along, almost to the strength it had been before.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. “Sure, kid,” he said. “You’ve never done a single bad thing in your life – tell me, how did we meet again?”

Peter smiled. “I believe you shot me when I was swinging six hundred foot above the ground and I luckily landed on a roof top, not the sidewalk.”

Tony hesitated. “Touché. But just for that, you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me.”

“Sure I can,” Tony replied with a smile. “I’m your legal guardian I can do what I want.”

Peter frowned. “You are?”

“Well, sure, kid. You’re a minor. You have to have a guardian.”

In Peter’s head, he understood it as being their son; a given that they would be his guardians. Out loud, he just nodded and said, “Do I get an allowance? You’re rich, so I expect it to be more than the other kids.”

Tony rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify it with a response.

 

-

 

Pepper was adamant that Peter should learn how to cook. It was all strangely domestic, like they’d fallen into the roles of parents and son, but no one was acknowledging it out loud. Something else Peter didn’t acknowledge out loud was how much he liked them as people – they were fun to be around, they respected his opinion, and spent time with him, despite how busy they were. There was a hidden part of him that wondered what his life would be like if he’d been raised a Stark; if he’d be preparing to take over Tony’s company, if he’d be top of his class or already starting college.

There were a thousand what ifs he thought about at night. He knew Tony and Pepper did, too – he could hear them when he listened. Could hear their hushed conversations, often about when they should tell him or how they _don’t play with what ifs, Tony, you know that hurts too much._

They hadn’t made their minds up about telling him.

Still, Pepper tried to teach him how to cook.

Peter, decidedly, was not good at it.

They’d only been going for about fifteen minutes when the contents of the pan burst in flames and Peter jumped back. “Uh, Pepper?” he called.

Pepper looked up from what she was reading at the kitchen table, her eyes comically widening.

“How is that possible?” she asked, tugging Peter back from the flames and searching for the fire extinguisher. “It’s _soup_.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said, his words rushing out. “I think the cooking gods hate me.”

“Cooking gods don’t exist,” Pepper replied, rummaging through the cupboard for the fire extinguisher. Peter had seen them put it in there when they arrived – Tony figured that Peter in general was a fire hazard.

“Tell that to Thor,” Peter retorted. “A literal god. You’re telling me that if they have gods for lightning and trickery, there isn’t one of cooking? Or soup?”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Pepper said, pulling out the extinguisher. She fiddled with the pin before yanking it out.

“Well you’re wrong,” Peter replied. “The cooking gods exist and they’ve forsaken me.”

Pepper was a moment too late with the extinguisher. Just before she sprayed the fire, the smoke reached the fire detector, which began beeping in a shrill tone. Only a second later the sprinklers burst into action.

Pepper doused the flames and huffed. Peter crawled beneath the kitchen table for shelter. Only a moment later, Pepper was on her knees, hiding under the table with him, a frown plastered over her face.

“I don’t know how to turn the sprinklers off,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” Peter replied. “I somehow set fire to soup.”

Pepper’s frown turned into a grin – she smiled a lot, Peter noticed. She smiled a lot because of _him_ , too. “Everyone has their flaws,” she agreed.

They watched the water puddle on the kitchen floor, fluorescent lights reflecting in it now that dinner was ruined. They didn’t talk much, just watched the indoor rain fall.

Eventually, Tony’s voice could be heard over the pattering of sprinkler drops.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked. Peter peered around the chairs to where Tony stood in the door way.

“We’re under here,” Peter called. Tony looked around the room before settling his gaze on Peter, and a moment later, darted out into the rain and crawled under the table.

“I repeat,” he said, when he was sitting next to Pepper. “What the hell is going on?”

“Peter ruined dinner,” Pepper said.

“Pepper took too long to stop the fire,” Peter shot back.

“Well, Peter was the one who _started_ the fire-”

“Why was there a fire?”

“Because the cooking gods have abandoned me,” Peter said.

Tony looked between the two of them, his face void of all emotion. Then, he sighed and said, “God, I hate this family.”

The three of them froze, then. _Family, family, family._ Peter kept his eyes on Tony, who moved his head at the slowest possible speed to look at Pepper – who, to her credit, was masking her surprise better than anyone else.

Tony then forced a cough and looked out to the indoor rain. “There’s a box in the hall with the controls for the sprinklers,” he said. “I can go-”

“I know,” Peter interrupted.

Tony and Pepper glanced at one another, and Tony asked, “About the sprinklers?”

“No,” Peter replied, shaking his head. “About the… the family thing. I know about how we’re-” he made a gesture with his hands, circling between them. For some reason, he didn’t want to say the words; as if he would say them and the illusion would be shattered; that they’d deny it, that he’d heard it wrong for the past few weeks, that he misunderstood.

Pepper finished the sentence for him, though. “Related.”

Peter swallowed, nodded. “Yeah.”

He watched as Pepper rolled her lower lip, unsure. “How long have you known?”

“I was awake,” he said, “when you got the bloodwork through.”

“You’ve known for weeks,” Tony said. “You didn’t say anything-”

“I thought I should wait for you to say something,” Peter replied. “I thought there’d be some plan and-”

“No,” Pepper said, light. “No plan. We were floundering. We didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s no easy thing to tell the kid you shot out of the sky that you’re their parents,” Tony agreed.

Pepper frowned, turning to Tony. “You shot him _out of the sky?_ ”

“Yeah, but he was a bad guy! This was, like, right at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, though some part of him found the situation amusing. “Like, if this were a story, it’d be chapter one.”

Tony nodded. “Totally. Chapter one, way back at the start. This is like, so many chapters from then.”

“Like a good amount of chapters,” Peter agreed. “If anything, this could be the _last_ chapter of that story-”

“Not to say that there won’t be further stories,” Tony added. “But in terms of how much has happened, this is _at least_ chapter eight material.”

Peter nodded. “Absolutely. So much happened. He hasn’t shot me out of the sky _once_ since then.”

Pepper cracked a smile, shaking her head at the two of them. She leaned against Tony, who put an arm around her shoulder, and her hand crept forward to take Peter’s.

“We didn’t want to make your life more confusing,” she told him. “But I promise, from here on out: no secrets.”

“None?”

“Well,” Tony said, his voice jumping two octaves.

“None,” Pepper swore, firm. “Unless it’s like a surprise birthday party, then I reserve the right to keep it a secret.”

Peter cracked a smile. “Do I get a surprise birthday party? Or like, an ultimate mega birth _week_ party – because I missed out on so many?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony replied. “You get one party a year. No drinking, no drugs, no loud music past eleven.”

“ _Eleven._ ”

“Okay, midnight. But Pepper and I have to be there, for both adult supervision and because we like parties, too.”

Soon, they would envelope Peter in a hug, sitting beneath the kitchen table as the indoor rain finally tapered away, sure the fire was out. He would sit between them, and they would wrap their arms around his frame, trying to make up for the lost years – because that’s what this all was. They were making up for what they missed; what they didn’t get to see.

Tony and Pepper would never know what Peter’s voice sounded like when he was going through puberty and every other word changed pitch dramatically. They’d never know what he looked like before the spider bit him, or who he could’ve been if he hadn’t been taken. But those were what ifs – and the Starks, firmly, did not play with what ifs.

Later, when they climbed out from under the table, Pepper’s hair still damp at the edges, they ordered pizza and ate it in the workshop, which was considerably dryer than the kitchen. Peter would find his copy of _On The Road_ soggy and destroyed on the kitchen counter, but he wouldn’t mind, because he wasn’t enjoying it anyway.

When they ate together, they laughed and talked and enjoyed each other’s company like they were a real family, and Peter supposed that one day, they would be.

Home, for Peter, was a strange, but not foreign, concept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so fucking much, guys.
> 
> You can subscribe to the series to be notified when more fics in this universe come out (I'm hoping to start posting those soon - maybe within the week, who knows). Feel free to comment, to say goodbye - thank you to everyone who has commented before (I've never had so many comments on a single fic, nor so many subscriptions), your support and encouragement means the world to me. If you have any ideas for one shots following this universe, let me know in the comments or on my tumblr (tempestaurora).
> 
> Pls note this is not an On The Road friendly place - I hate it so Peter does too.
> 
> If you're interested, here's what happened in the other drafts:
> 
> In draft 1, Peter ran away the next morning after hearing the news about his parents. He left because he was still planning his escape to live alone without HYDRA or the Avengers. He holes up in an alley for a day or so until Bucky finds him and gives him some advice. He then climbs a skyscraper and waits for Tony to find him. They have a chat, things are revealed, Peter goes home with him.
> 
> In draft 2, Peter ran away the next morning after hearing the news. He stole some cash and got a bus ticket to Philadelphia. Bucky found him on the bus, gave him some even better advice than the first time and a burner phone to contact them. In Philly, Peter slept under a bridge and decided he just wanted to go home; he wanted that feeling, and that feeling was only going to be found with the parents he missed. He texted for Tony to pick him up and is immediately attacked by HYDRA agents that were on his tail. Iron Man arrived at the end of the fight, they have a chat, revelation yada yada yada.
> 
> My main problem with them was that Peter's decision felt forced. Because at the beginning of the chapter, he wanted to leave - and that mindset stayed with him for over 3k before changing his mind. It felt rushed and annoying, and I was really highly stressing out about this ending. At one point, I was going to have HYDRA steal him back and make the fic longer - because that was the only way I could see him running away working with the plot. It would've also been a great way to avoid writing the ending for a little longer. But, in the end, I changed his motive, had him ditch the escape plan right off the bat, and used the whole time skip montage thing to have him gradually acclimatise to Tony and Pepper and enjoy living with them. 
> 
> Which, tbh, was the best of the three options. I'm really, really happy with the way this fic turned out. It's twice the length I expected and I'm so happy that it got such a great reception for you guys.
> 
> Thank you so much. Have a great weekend and keep a look out for future fics in this universe.

**Author's Note:**

> guys! hello! thank you for reading!  
> if you could be so kind as to hit the kudo button and leave me a comment, telling me what you liked, disliked, loved, wouldn't change for the world, i'd be so happy! i'm not saying that comments make me write faster, but comments totally make me write faster.
> 
> i plan to do daily updates for this fic, so you can hit the subscribe button to receive emails when the new chapters out. thank you so so much

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When You Find Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513615) by [Moonscar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonscar/pseuds/Moonscar)




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